


To The Full Moon And Back

by glittercake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Cabins, First Meetings, First Time, Full Shift Werewolves, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Mutual Pining, Sambucky Big Bang 2020, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, human!Bucky, werewolf!Sam, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercake/pseuds/glittercake
Summary: After serving his time in Special Ops, Bucky moves to a two-horse town, deep in the mountains. He buys an old log cabin in a large clearing surrounded by acres of tall, thick trees and dark woods- the only place for miles up there.As he acquaints himself with the locals, he learns about the small town’s weird obsession with wolves and all the supernatural rumors, specifically around the area of his cabin.Bucky thinks them all a little off-kilter until peculiar occurrences around his new home piques his interest enough to find out more.And that’s when he learns that apparently werewolves are a very real thing.Pity that Bucky doesn’t share the town’s caution when it comes to the woods and his cabin.This ‘werewolf’ devoured his pizza and left the crust, how scary can he really be?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 161
Kudos: 327
Collections: Big Bang Artworks, Sambucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my SamBucky Big Bang entry, guys! I'm starting the posting a little early so that I can space the chapters out and get done by the 28th of September. The fic is complete and I'll post every other day! 
> 
> Moodboards/Banners accompanying this fic, and embedded herein, made by [@343enderspark](https://343enderspark.tumblr.com/) and [@nixies-creations](https://nixies-creations.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this one!

At first, it doesn't really strike Bucky as strange when he moves to a little town up north, and everyone there is borderline obsessed with wolves.

He finds it kind of cute.

Now, when he says a small town, he really means it's small. Clover Falls: Population 1600, 80% wooded area, 20% mountains. But it's delightful, partly sunny—which is a plus after retiring from service in the desert—plus lots of hiking trails and sights to see. And it smells like damp woodland not exhaust emissions and gun smoke, and exactly nothing reminds Bucky of the military here.

Bucky's been staying at a quiet little vintage hotel until he signs the papers for a property he bought further up the mountain. He left his room early today to look around, which is how he discovers the town's wolf obsession.

It starts at the curio shop on the corner, neighboring the hotel. He's thinking of getting a small gift to send back home as soon as he's settled in. When he steps inside, the first thing he notices are shelves stacked floor to ceiling with wolf ornaments and memorabilia- postcards, t-shirts, caps, even aprons, he thinks it's a little overboard but still charming.

He finds it amusing enough to buy himself a coffee mug with glowing yellow eyes and tall forest trees printed across it.

Then he takes a walk down a cobblestone pavement in search of a place to eat. He finds such at the far end of town, in a cul de sac- a pub & grill named Howlers. No surprise that the logo is a fiberglass wolf's head with a big red moon at its back.

Bucky sits down at a booth near the window where he can watch passersby and daydream about his new home while he eats. He tries to see it through the trees, but there's not much except tree trunks and the early morning sun coming through the branches above. He's curious about the inside: what furniture he's going to get, does he need to build at all, will there be space for the fire pit he's always wanted?

Howlers is rather busy this early in the day, and it takes a while for someone to make it to his table and drag him back to the present.

"Hey! Sorry for the wait!" a lady says.

She's got thick, glossy black hair, neatly styled into tiny ringlets, and the warmest brown eyes Bucky has ever seen. She shoots him a brilliant smile once she's close enough. She’s wearing high cut jeans and a button-down check shirt, not a uniform like the other staff so he guesses not a waitress then. Her golden name tag reads 'Misty' and the tip of her pen has—he never would have guessed it—a plastic wolf's head on it.

"Welcome to Howlers," she says, then points the pen at him, thoughtful, "I haven't seen you 'round here before. You new?"

"Yeah, actually, I'm just about to move in," Bucky says, returning her smile.

Another great thing about small towns is how friendly the people are. Everyone knows everyone.

And he guesses that's why she reaches out to shake his hand as if he's an old friend, "I'm Misty, as you can see." She gestures to her name tag. "I like your hair." She nods to his hair that had grown down to his shoulders now. 

Bucky chuckles, fiddles with it a little before answering, "Thanks, I like yours too." He replicates her spirally curls with his finger in the air and Misty grins at him. "I'm James.” He motions around the cozy little place, “Yours?”

"You bet,” she smiles proudly, “So, where’re you moving to, James? East side or West side? I'm on the West side, way better if you ask me."

"Oh. Actually," he scrolls through his gallery for the picture the estate agent sent him. The old cabin on the right side of the mountain, circled by pine trees and shrubbery and thick woodlands, long green grass, and a narrow little footpath that leads to the front door. "This one."

He shows Misty the photo, and it's like someone empties a bucket of ice down her back in the dead of winter, but she attempts meekly to force her friendly smile back in place.

"Oh…" she says, then clears her throat, "The, uhm, that's nice!"

Bucky is no fool; he catches the fake lilt in her voice. "Your face ain't saying it's nice."

"No! Oh god, honey, I don't… It's just uh…" she's suddenly stiff, almost uncomfortable, then waves her hand dismissively airy, "Oh, you know, it's just rumors. It's silly."

Bucky sits back, toying with the edge of the menu, "Well, I love a good story, ma'am."

Misty narrows her eyes at him, not tense but playful now, "Maybe another time. How about breakfast, James?"

Bucky agrees and orders a plate of scrambled eggs and cheese grillers, some bacon and toast, and gives Misty a happy nod when she walks away. But there's a spark of curiosity zipping around in the back of his head now.

Bucky forgets all about it as soon as Misty places a hot plate down in front of him. His mouth waters just from the smell. She fills up his coffee cup, tells him to enjoy, and then heads off to check on another table.

He snaps a quick picture of the road outside and the tall pine trees towering out above the buildings with rays of sun beaming through, and sends it to his sister before he digs in.

**_To: Becs_ **

_Are you jealous?_

He watches the typing bubbles and feels like giggling because he knows what she's going to say. His family hadn't really been in favor of him moving so far away following his amputee rehab. Bucky, on the other hand, couldn't bear the thought of busy city life and loud noises and overcrowded streets.

**_From: Becs_ **

_Jealous? Of a town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere? I'm surprised this message didn't come via turtle dove._

There's a bird emoji at the end of her text. He sends a row of laughing faces back.

Bucky takes another photo, this time of his food, and sends it to her as well.

**_To Becs:_ **

_Fine what about this_

**_From Becs:_ **

_WELL._

_I'm not a slut for small towns, but who knows._

He might have laughed out loud since the family across the aisle glares at him. He clears his throat and gets back to eating. He'll call Becca up a little later. 

He doesn't see Misty again; he thinks she might have gotten busy in the back. He pays at the counter and gets a coffee to go—a pity since he wanted to hear how a picture of a cabin got her all spooked.

The answer, however, comes to him when he reaches the Estate Agent's office.

The place is just about the size of a shipping container, a desk takes up most of the space anyhow, and behind it sits an older guy with an eyepatch and a nameplate that reads: Nicholas Fury.

"Now, I know a vet when I see one," the man says. "Which unit?"

Bucky gives a quick salute, "Yes sir. Special Ops."

He points to Bucky's left arm, "That why you got out?"

Bucky is surprised that the man even noticed at all. His prosthetic, although metal and machine, looks close enough to the real deal from far away.

He nods to the man’s eye patch, "That why _you_ got out?" Bucky asks, coming to sit down.

Nicholas pauses for a moment, regarding Bucky carefully. "Yeah. Let's say it is."

Again, Bucky feels submerged in mystery. First, Misty's seemingly visceral reaction to the photo and now the strange tone to Nicholas' voice.

He frowns, deciding not to get caught up in anything crazy. "Uhm, I'm here to sign the papers for the place I bought on the mountain."

"Oh yeah. Let's see." Nicholas starts flipping through his old yellowed file, "Your name?"

"James Barnes, sir."

Nick seems to find what he's looking for, but his head just snaps up to Bucky.

"Oh," he says.

"Oh? There a problem?"

Nick shakes his head, "Hm. You believe in ghost stories, son?"

Bucky thinks back to him and Becca camping in their backyard, telling spooky stories or reading Goosebumps books with a torchlight propped under their chin. But he thinks, having come back from duty, ghost stories mean something very different now.

So, he says, "No sir," with the most convincing smile he can manage.

"Ah. See. You'll be fine."

Then he's pushing some pages over to Bucky to sign, stamping another one with a stamp that looks as old as this town probably, and hands a few copies over.

"You shouldn't have any problems, but if you do, call my office. And uh, the place hasn't been lived in for a while, it's a little... rusty, but you knew that."

"Part of the reason I got it." He wiggles his prosthetic fingers, "Will keep me busy."

"Alright, Mr. Barnes. Good luck."

Bucky thinks that's a pretty weird thing to say, but he clutches the keys to his new place and books it out of there. Partly because he's excited and partly because he's starting to get a little freaked out.

His truck is loaded with the most important of his belongings from home, and he feels an excitement thrum through his chest when he starts her up, heading along the uphill marked ‘Shallow's Pass’ on an old, rusted road sign.

Weird, mysterious wolf-ghost town be damned.

Bucky's about to start a whole new chapter in his life.

* * *

High on the mountain, along Shallow's Pass, the wolf sits and watches a man with long, tangled hair and diamond blue eyes. A man who smells like ozone and summer rain.

And trouble.

The wolf huffs and shakes out his coat, ridding it of all the leaves gathered in his fur as he lies hidden.

There's hard work ahead if he's going to chase this one off like he had all the others. And so, a quick hunt and an early night are in order.

He plucks a blooming cornflower with his teeth and gently lays it on the rock beside him.

There's a spot on the rock, carved with the letter "R," and he nudges his snout against it before sprinting off into the thicket of trees below.


	2. Chapter 2

So, the cabin has more work ahead than Bucky initially thought.

He has spent the last two days unpacking and hauling wood and debris from inside, sweeping up piles of dust and dried leaves, and replacing some broken window panes. It still smells musty, so today is spring cleaning day.

He'd gone down to the town for supplies the day before and got up before daybreak to get started. So far, he's got the windows shined, dusted off the bookshelf, scrubbed the kitchen counters, and mopped up the floor.

It's late morning when he finally takes a breather and heads outside to rinse off when he first experiences it.

He has his t-shirt tucked in the back of his jeans, rinsing his face under the outside tap when he feels eyes on him.

He spins around right away, expecting someone coming up the path toward the cabin.

But there's no one there.

Bucky scans the tree line in the distance; he makes sure there is no one on the footpath and even peers around the back of the cabin. Still nothing.

"… Okay." He mumbles to himself and tousles his wet hair a few times. He thinks living alone in a strange environment will take some getting used to, he hasn't learned all the sounds and echoes around here yet. That's all it is. He just needs to get a feel for the place.

He slips his T-shirt back on, grabs a bottle of water from the cooler, and gets started on patching up some cracked plaster on the porch. Once that's done, he reinforces the two small wooden steps with a log and replaces the hinges on the front door.

He falls back on his ass, propped up against the outside cabin wall when he's done and gulps down the rest of his water, pretty tired after all the work. But it looks better. The footpath is cleared, he placed the scattered rocks neatly along each side and piled up all the logs in a neat pyramid at the bottom of the steps.

Now that he actually takes in the view from here, he realizes the place is astonishingly beautiful. The woods right opposite the cabin, the shrubs and flower bushes to the left, and what looks like it could be a flower bed to the right. He doesn't get why no one has snatched this place up already.

He decides to order a pizza for lunch. The phone barely rings- another perk of small towns.

_ "Alpha's, how can I help you?" _

Of course, they're called Alpha's. Christ. He suppresses a laugh. 

"Hey, do you guys deliver?"

_ "Sure do sir, what can I get you?" _

"Great. Just a pepperoni. Extra cheese."

_ "No problem. And your address, sir?" _

Bucky reaches for the cabin keys dangling in the lock to make sure, "Shallow's Pass 17."

_ "Okay—uh…" _

The person on the line goes quiet.

"Hello?"

_ "Uhm, yeah, did you say 17 Shallow's Pass?" _

"That's it, yeah."

_ "Can… can you hold for one second?" _

They don't wait for an answer, but Bucky hears them calling to someone else:  _ "Hey Julio, we got an order for Shallow's Pass 17, the old cabin." _ Then a guy  says,  _ "Oh, hell no!" _ to which another replies,  _ "Shut up. Business is business. Tell 'em we'll bring it right up…. You kids and your goddamn ghost stories." _ Then the first voice calls out,  _ "It's not a ghost story, it's—" _

But the person is back on the line with Bucky before he can find out what exactly  _ it _ is.  _ "Sorry about that. Food will be up in about twenty minutes, sir." _

"Uhm. Thank you." He guesses. What the fuck is going on with this town? Do they think his cabin is haunted?? Maybe someone  _ died _ here. Jesus.

Bucky closes his eyes for a second, pushing these insane thoughts from his mind, and instead dozes peacefully with his legs stretched out.

He startles awake when the birds over in the woods suddenly flutter and shriek from the treetops. A swarm of them fly over the cabin, protesting wildly at whatever disturbed them.

And then, hardly noticeable, the shrubs to the left of him start rustling.

Bucky perks up and gets to his feet as slow as he can. It's not unlikely that there'd be some wildlife up here; it _ is _ the woods after all.

The leaves and twigs stir and wriggle, and he hears the ground crunch, but he can't see what it is.

The moment he takes one step closer, the bush falls silent. Not a single sound or movement comes from it now. He waits, thinking whatever it is had seen him and is about to bolt, but exactly nothing happens. Nothing comes out; nothing runs away.

Which makes him think perhaps the animal got stuck.

He makes his way to the bush; it can't be anything bigger than a deer probably, right? And it's ridiculous being afraid of a deer or a rabbit, especially if it needs help. So, he sucks it up and reaches out with his prosthetic to part the thick branches.

And he sees… nothing.

Exactly nothing.

"What the hell?" he reaches in further, checking deeper into the bush, but it's empty. Just like that, whatever had been there, had gone away.  _ Vanished…  _ something echoes in the back of his mind, but he is willfully and purposely  _ not _ thinking that.

There's a boot crunching on gravel behind him just then.

Bucky whips around, dizzy, his hand going for the Glock that should be at his side, but there's nothing. Because he is  _ discharged;  _ because he's not in the field anymore…

It takes him a few blinding seconds to collect his nerves and realize there's a guy, early twenties, standing there with a pizza box and red cap, looking perpetually confused.

"Oh sweet Jesus," Bucky breathes out, clutching his chest, swallowing, blinking.

"O-oh hey mister, sorry," he says, "I heard they said you used to serve and stuff and I shouldn't have snuck up like that but I don't usually come up here so I wasn’t sure where, uh, you know, you usually take deliveries and then I just—"

Bucky holds up a hand before the kid chokes on his own words, "Uhm, no, that's not… I'm fine. Just got distracted." He goes over to grab the box and sets it down on the porch while he digs out the cash from his pocket. The kid's hovering idly at the end of the footpath when Bucky turns back. "You okay?" Bucky asks because he's not moving or coming to get his money.

The kid leans back and peeks around the back of the cabin, then glances over at the tree line, shifting from foot to foot. 

"Uh, y-yeah yeah," he says with a thin, strangled voice, and as soon as Bucky hands the cash over, he power walks back to his delivery motorbike. "Thanks, mister mountain man! Enjoy the pizza! Fifth one gets you free garlic puffs!! They're great!! Alright, bye!"

Bucky stares at him, frowning until the bike is out of sight. He remembers the empty bush and turns to look at it. But everything seems peaceful again, the birds are back in their trees, chirping, and he doesn't feel like he's being watched anymore.

So, Bucky has his pizza and a beer while sitting cross-legged on the porch. He's tempted to google Shallow's Pass, but he doesn't, just in case it's bad news. Instead, he sends Becca a few pictures of the cabin and the front yard and his half-eaten pizza.

He gets up and thinks a nap is probably in order. The rest of the work can wait until the next day, and after that, he can get some stuff delivered to start making this place a home. He leaves the last two slices of pizza, in the box, on the kitchen counter, and heads upstairs.

It's a long, undisturbed nap, no dreams, no noises, and a gust of gentle warm wind on his cheek finally wakes him. It is dark out, crickets chirping somewhere in the distance, when he gets out of bed.

Bucky turns on some lights, has a quick shower, changes into sweats and a vest, and heads to the kitchen. He grabs a plate to warm the leftover pizza, but when he reaches for the box, his hand just hits the counter. No box.

_ No box??  _

He looks at the empty spot where the pizza box had been, then turns around to check the other counter, the floor, the porch, he even goes back upstairs thinking perhaps he'd been in a hungry sleepwalking daze earlier.

But the box is gone.

The next reasonable thought is that he left a window open, and raccoons got in. But would they take the whole damn box??

Also, the window is closed and clipped shut.

_ What the— _

* * *

The wolf stretches out in the moonlight, belly up, licking his lips. He wiggles around in the tall grass on his mountain top.

From down below, inside the old cabin, comes a disgruntled and thoroughly annoyed,  _ "What the fuck???" _

The man with the long, tangled hair—he thinks he'll call him Tangles—is looking for his dinner.

Tangles is sufficiently freaked out by now, he's sure, just a few more tricks and the cabin will have seen the last of him and his renovations, and the wolf can roam his mountain in peace.

He scurries up and shakes his coat a few times. With his teeth, he shreds the pizza box into tiny pieces and collects them in his mouth.

He'll leave them on the cabin’s porch for its owner to find. Hopefully, that'll be the last straw.

It doesn't matter that the guy looks like a sculpture without his shirt on. He's gotta go.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky barely slept a wink the night before; he kept hyper obsessing over every last sound outside, and so it's already midday when he wakes.

And of course, the missing pizza box played a fair part in his sleeplessness, although he is not going to attach any meaning to it. Definitely not. There's a rational, level headed explanation for all of this.

He yawns on his way down the stairs, makes coffee with his eyes half-closed then shuffles around on socked feet to the front door.

He pushes the door open, pleased to find it damp and dreary outside. He loves cold and overcast days, and so, his first sip of steaming hot coffee goes down like a dream. This could turn out to be a really good day, he thinks.

That's until he takes a few steps forward to sit down on the stairs, hitting something with his toes. He looks down.

An ice-cold shiver runs through him, and he wishes he could say it was from the nippy weather.

The missing pizza box- torn to shreds and scattered all over his porch. The crusts too...

But then, instead of fear, he's riddled with annoyance. He remembers the phone conversation with Alpha's day before, and now he's so sure that this is all some elaborate prank.

"This is not funny!!  _ You're  _ not funny! Like at all!" he screams out into the clearing at the foot of his cabin. "It's real lame, buddy! Okay? And I'm not scared; I'm pissed off!"

And that's the truth. He's not scared; whatever's going on only infuriates him.

Bucky kicks the scatterings of the pizza box off the steps, "So cut it out!!"

He slams the cabin door shut, gulps down his coffee, and goes to put on his work clothes and boots. He's got a goddamn fire pit to build today, some cement to lay down, bricks to haul around if only out of frustration, and damn whoever's trying to scare him, he's doing it.

The work takes forever today, and he's genuinely thankful the sun isn't out, or he wouldn't have gotten half of this done. It's close to five p.m, and he's about six cups of coffee strong and laying the last brick on his new D.I.Y fire pit when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end again.

It's like when you know you're being watched, like your every move is cataloged, and even if you turn, whatever's watching you is one step ahead.

Bucky inhales, puts his mug down, and starts looking around— the steel trowel still in his hand.

This is ridiculous.

"What do you want, huh?" He turns to the shrubs, "Why don't you come on out, and we’ll settle this?"

There's no answer, but he feels the presence, he knows someone's here.

Fleetingly, he thinks if Becca heard him right now, starting a fight with the woods, she'd have him shipped back home immediately, and placed under strict supervision.

"What? Are you scared??" he calls out, throwing his hands up. He's probably the dumbest asshole on the block; isn't this how everyone dies in slasher films?

When there's still no answer or movement anywhere, Bucky mumbles, "Yeah. Thought so."

And he's about to pack up and head inside to get cleaned up when his eye catches something. A low hanging mist forms on the ground and thickens, creeping its way over the clearing and around his ankles. 

And in the distance, he sees it.

At first, he swears it's a light—a glowing, yellow light—until another one appears.

He's painfully aware of the part of himself refusing to acknowledge that those are fucking  _ eyes _ .

But then they blink.

Bucky drops the trowel, slowly walking backward, expecting the eyes to lunge at him any second now, but a hefty gust of wind swoops over the clearing, billowing the mist away.

And with it, the glowing yellow eyes.

He must have lost his mind for real? This is not… that couldn't have been  _ eyes; _ they'd have told him if there was something with  _ glowing yellow eyes _ on the mountain. What in the actual fuck? What even  _ has  _ glowing yellow eyes??

Bucky has his truck's keys and wallet ready, pulling the cabin door shut, he needs a goddamn drink right now. He'd been planning on heading down to Howlers for dinner anyway, perhaps chat someone up, buy them a drink since it's Friday night and all, and he hasn't spoken to anyone for some time. Now he's thinking of just getting hammered.

The place is packed. He finds he doesn't mind too much; he'd rather be in company right now until he can come up with some logical explanation for the eyes and the creepy feelings and the way people react to Shallow's Pass.

"James??"

Bucky snaps out of it and inhales, turning to whoever's calling his name.

Misty's sitting with a group of people at the bar. He might as well head over and make some friends; maybe someone will drop a couple of hints about whatever's going on.

Misty's curly hair is up in a bun tonight just like Bucky's, and she's wearing jeans and a Guns n Roses t-shirt. With her is a blonde woman, the guy who delivered his mysteriously vanishing pizza, and what seems like his friend.

"Hey, come sit down," she takes her feet off the chair beside her and pulls it out for Bucky, "Guys this is James—"

"Oh, call me Bucky. Second name's Buchanan, so..."

"Alright then, Bucky, meet Peter," she points to the curly-haired pizza dude, and he waves. "That's Ned," a young guy with dark hair parted down the middle throws a quick awkward wave at Bucky. "And that's Sharon." The blonde woman in a tank top waves too.

Bucky sits, and the rest continue their conversation. Misty turns to him, though, "Sharon does freelance photography, and Peter just started at the pizza place with Ned. They're research students at the University."

"Didn't realize this small town even had one." He says.

She circles a finger in the air, letting the barman know they need another round.

"Yeah, just a couple of miles away."

A waiter brings over a few more drinks, plus a tray of purple shots, and Bucky makes idle chit chat with Misty for a little while longer. Apparently, the shots they're drinking are moonshine cooked up by someone named Old Man Phillips, and it's made with extracts of wolf's bane, because of course. Sharon joins in when they talk about Bucky's time with Special Ops and losing his arm. He's pleasantly surprised to hear that Sharon had served too: Air Force, two tours, and also found solace and peace in the outdoors like he had.

The younger ones are on their phones, scrolling and giggling about something from time to time. Misty's telling Sharon about a guy she met, and Bucky's gazing mindlessly at the people around them.

His eyes fall on someone he hadn't noticed before. Right at the far end of the bar, a guy has sat down, wearing an emerald green hoodie that looks worn soft with an embroidered bird on the back, and faded blue jeans. Bucky immediately notices the broad set of his shoulders and the thick span of his biceps.

And for the first time in a very long time, Bucky's interest sparks to life. He imagines those arms around him, holding him down, grabbing on to those thighs…

But the guy's hoodie is pulled over his head, and he's looking down, pointedly nursing a whiskey, so Bucky can't see his face. 

Funny enough, the more Bucky's looking at him, the tighter the man's fingers seem to curl around his glass. His knuckles turn white eventually, and Bucky gets increasingly nervous watching him. It's like the guy can sense someone looking at him, the same way Bucky felt earlier in the clearing.

With a sudden, sharp clatter, the whiskey glass shatters in the man's grip, and he shoots up from his barstool. He whips around to glare at Bucky as if the broken glass is his fault.

But Bucky finally sees his face. He's got a thick, dark beard with about four months' worth of growth on it; lush dreadlocks swept over one shoulder. There's nothing under the deep green hoodie, just his bare chest and collar bones. He's undeniably attractive, intensely so. 

Bucky stares unashamedly, and the man is staring back, the frown between his eyes growing perplexed. 

Then he's swiftly sliding some cash over the counter to the barman and quietly says, "Sorry." before heading out at an alarming speed.

"You okay, bud?!" the guy behind the counter calls after him but gets no answer.

No one at Bucky's table seems to have noticed the moment between Bucky and the guy at the bar, and there doesn't seem to be a huge fuss about the broken glass either, as if that shit happens on the regular. 

"So?" Misty nudges him with her shoulder, "Settling in okay?"

"Uh, Yeah." Bucky says, "Almost done cleaning up. Should be able to move some stuff in soon."

Her smile is tight when she says, "Oh, you're staying! That's great!"

A bubble of silence encases their table then as if they all know exactly who he is and where he lives, and they've just been waiting for the right moment to intercept.

Bucky shrugs, "Well, I mean, I bought the place."

Peter's eyes flick to Ned, and he leans forward, "How's it been up there?"

"Pete, come on," Sharon says, rolling her eyes.

"What?! I'm just asking?!"

"Actually, you know," Bucky says, taking a sip of beer, "Been a bit weird if I'm honest."

Peter and Ned suppress a joyous yelp and high five each other.

Misty laughs and Sharon sighs, finishing her drink, calling out to the barman, "Scott! We're gonna need more booze over here!"

"More moonshine?" Scott, the barman, says, already holding up the bottle. Something bright violet sloshes around inside.

"Hells yeah." She sits back, propping her legs on an empty chair, then mumbles, "Bring me the goddamn bottle."

"Am I missing something?" Bucky asks as if he's none the wiser.

Misty gestures for the very eager looking pair to go ahead and Scott comes to pour the drinks.

"There are rumors about your cabin," Ned says, hushed and leaning in.

When Scott's poured the drinks, they're arranged in a neat little circle in the middle of the table, but no one touches it. It reminds Bucky of campfire stories.

"That it's haunted," says Peter

Ned adds, "Or cursed."

"Hmm," Bucky purses his lips. "How so?"

Peter's voice is quiet and low, "Well, everyone who has ever moved in there has fled with no explanation, leaving the place abandoned for the council to take care of. The last guy—Justin, I think, was his name—got two fingers severed up there. Some people say that’s where Mr. Fury lost his eye."

"Word got around about the things happening up there, and no one in town wanted anything to do with the place anymore," says Ned, “So Fury used to go ‘round there for upkeep but one day—” he grimaces and points to his one eye.

Bucky's spine feels tingly, "Do they, uh, know what it is?"

Sharon's looking incredibly annoyed; Misty impartial.

Ned's tone changes too, when he speaks, "Do you believe in supernatural stuff?"

He remembers Nick from the estate agency, asking him something similar when he first moved here.

"What, like ghosts?" he asks.

Peter shakes his head, "Werewolves."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot straight up, and he looks around the table at the others, in incredulous disbelief. Ghosts, he thinks, are one thing. They are simply spirits of the living bound to earth; it's easy to justify. Bucky's ma and gran spoke about them often, even admitted to having encountered one or two in their lifetime.

But werewolves are like vampires. They're reserved for novels and fairytales and blockbusters. They're not something Bucky has ever considered real. Until now.

"Werewolves?? As in Underworld? As in Werewolves in Paris??"

_ "Very _ outdated references," Peter says, "But yeah. Werewolves."

Bucky's face must look terribly pained because Sharon says, "See? This is just ridiculous. Everyone you tell thinks you guys are completely nuts."

"It's not nuts if we've seen them!" Peter hisses through his teeth.

"You didn't see shit," Sharon says and gulps down another shot.

"We did. We saw a man," Ned says, "There was a man, and then he was gone, and instead of the man there was a  _ wolf." _

"And apparently this man was white, blonde, alone in the middle of the woods and built like a brick shithouse and had glowing orange eyes?" Misty chips in.

"Red. His eyes were  _ red, _ and the man was white, and so was the wolf. Yes." says Ned.

"We saw what we saw," Peter adds, resolutely shrugging.

Bucky's gaping at the table, trying to comprehend all this. Glowing red eyes while the ones  _ he _ saw were yellow… which would imply…

"Buck?" Misty places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Oh my god," Peter and Ned say at once. Ned leans in, "You've seen it too??"

Bucky laughs it off and downs his purple shot. The last thing he needs is people thinking he's lost his mind. Perhaps he has.

"You know… that's why the town's got wolf shrines all over." Misty tells him, circling the rim of her glass, "It's homage to the wolves hunted and extirpated from this area. It’s a sign that we mean them no harm. Now, I don't believe the ghost stories, but I do believe in legends."

He looks at her and forces a smile. Scott brings over a round of beers, joining in their discussion (he's siding with Peter and Ned).

And Bucky comes to terms with the fact that there is possibly a  _ werewolf _ living on his property.

The fact that he's more than mildly excited about this prospect is a whole different ball game.

* * *

The wolf is at an impasse.

Tangles over there is stubborn as all hell. He is hard-headed and impenetrable and not at all affected by the wolf's tricks. 

He's nothing like Magic Mike, who had been so terrified of the mist and shaking trees; he lasted only four days. He's not like Dumb Justin, who got so distracted by the wolf watching him that he chopped off his own fingers with the wood ax.

The wolf's attempts at chasing the guy off have only resulted in him almost revealing himself— _ twice!! _ —to this man.

He has never, not once, followed a cabin inhibitor to town and risked being seen like that. But he  _ needed _ to see him; he felt an unbearable urge to be in his presence, count his heartbeats, be soothed by his breathing, and his scent.

His evoking powers simply doesn't seem to work on Tangles. And this can only mean one thing… a thing the wolf is not ready to deal with just yet. Not after Riley. Because it should be impossible. 

The wolf knew Tangles was trouble the moment he drove his truck up this mountain with an arm casually hanging out the window, and his hair blowing in the wind like something wild.

He knew it was trouble; he just wasn't betting on this exact kind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meet one bratty wolf :)

So Bucky figures if the… uh…  _ werewolf _ had any plans to hurt him, he'd have done so already.

There've been plenty of opportunities, he thinks, especially for a being as agile and powerful as the movies make them out to be. 

It is, in all honesty, a ridiculous concept, and Bucky definitely has his doubts about everything. The weird feeling he gets like someone's watching may very well just be a little bit of loneliness creeping in- a subconscious wish for someone to be around. The yellow eyes could be fireflies- they're certainly not uncommon around here. The torn pizza box could have been a prank as much as it could be sharp teeth…

But then there's Peter and Ned's story about the man in the woods and the wolf appearing in his place. They said that one had red eyes. Different color eyes could imply a pack; at the very least, it implies more than one. 

Bucky's determined to get to the truth of this. He's got a plan and everything. It's probably a stupid plan now that he thinks about it— camping out in the clearing waiting for the wolf sounds like the worst thing you could ever do when faced with this possibility. Yet here he is: camping chair, cooler box, and a book. 

And now, he waits.

He spent the morning ordering some furniture for delivery the next day and unpacking the stuff he had in his truck, mostly kitchenware and some groceries, plus a few blankets, pillows, all his techie stuff, and some books.

He sends Becca a few photos of the clearing, the new fire pit, a cut on his hand, and a selfie of him lounging in the chair with his shades on. 

She texts back after ignoring him for half an hour. 

**_From: Becs_ **

_ What? Are you bored all alone in the woods? Wow. Didn't see that coming. _

The emoji she puts at the end looks like its head is exploding.

**_To Becs:_ **

_ Man I miss that attitude _

_ Hey, do you believe in werewolves and vampires and that kinda shit? _

**_From Becs:_ **

_ Oh god, you've lost it. Hold tight. I'm sending the troops. _

Obviously, he would sound entirely off his rocker. 

**_To Becs:_ **

_ Remember we thought Mr. Johnson was a zombie for like a year _ .

**_From Becs:_ **

_ What are you talking about? He was a zombie. _

_ But for real, what are you talking about? _

Bucky laughs, and it echoes into the woods. He hopes wolfman hears that and comes to check it out. 

**_To Becs:_ **

_ Small town rumors. Heard some shit at the bar last night. _

Becca sends many, many crying emojis.

**_From Becs:_ **

_ Aw baby bro going out being all grown _

_ Did you get some _

**_To Becs:_ **

_ Goodbye Rebecca. _

He ignores the next message from her and decides to get a tan while the sun's out. Bucky strips off his shirt and rolls his jeans up at the bottom, then props his feet up on the cooler box. He drapes the t-shirt over his lap and gets comfy. 

He ends up dozing off for an unspecified amount of time. When he wakes up, he's baked hot and sweaty, and the sun has moved west. So late afternoon then.

Bucky gets up to stretch, remembering the shirt in his lap just in time and grabs for it before it hits the ground. 

But it's not there. He checks the ground at his feet and beside the chair and doesn't find anything. 

There is, however, a set of paw prints in the dirt.

Bucky flings himself around to check the cabin, the shrubs, and then the treeline, but he's the only one there.

The prints are enormous, about the size of his palm, and trails from his chair, halfway around the fire pit, and fades where the clearing's dirt meets the woodland grass. 

There's something electric dancing up his spine. This is real. These are definitely animal prints; they're wolf prints. They've got to be. And the wolf was here, literally inches away from Bucky, possibly touching him. 

He also took Bucky's shirt. For whatever reason. Is he just a little shit? Is he trying to tell Bucky something? Is it a territorial thing?

He's actually trembling and giddy, the tiniest bit freaked out, but mostly he's excited. 

If the wolf got this close to Bucky, and only took his shirt, when he could have ripped his throat out, perhaps that means the wolf's trying to be friends? 

Oh god, he's an idiot. He's entirely mad. 

But still, he wonders what the wolf looks like, what color he is. Oh… what if he is actually a she?? He wonders what the person looks like when the wolf… transforms?? Will the wolf and the person want to be friends? Will they ever come out of the shadows and let Bucky see them? 

Which is when another plan hits him. 

He rushes off into the cabin, grabs another shirt, some shoes, and the truck's keys. 

"Be right back!!" he shouts at not-exactly-no-one and careens the truck down the mountain. 

The butchery is called Happy's, and it's just across the road from Howlers. He stumbles in there breathless, probably looking terribly disheveled. 

The guy at the counter looks at him, eyebrows arched in amusement. 

"I… I need an, uhm… oh wow, sorry!" Bucky takes a deep breath, hands on his hips he tries to look as casual as he possibly can, and tries again, "You got any rump steaks?" he says with a high squeak in his voice. 

"Sure. How many do you want, pal?"

_ How much do werewolves eat? Do they eat steak? Ten? Ten steaks? _

"Uh, four?"

The man grins, "Alright. A sec." 

Bucky nods, still breathless but now more from pure excitement. This is so crazy. 

Bucky is about to vibrate off his axis by the time he and the butcher exchange meat for money, and he's quick on his feet down the road to the curio shop on the corner. 

He knows exactly where to find what he's looking for. It caught his eye the last time he strolled around in there, and he laughed it off, but what better dessert after dinner with a werewolf than werewolf biscuits??

It's perfect. And Bucky has lost his mind. 

"What're in these?" He asks the shop owner.

"Caramel, choc chip, oats." 

"Not like dog biscuits, right?" 

"Lord, no, child," the lady says.

Bucky buys a tin, and he can't get out of there fast enough, speeding up the mountain around turns and bends and up the pathway to his cabin. 

He doesn't even feel stupid when he gets out of the truck and says, "I'm back!" 

What's their name, he wonders. Do they have a nickname? How exactly does this part-wolf thing work; is it linked to the moon like it is in every single movie he's ever seen? He needs goddamn answers. 

Obviously, there is no answer or sign from the woods or the clearing or the shrubs which had been so vocal with the wolf's presence before, so Bucky heads inside and starts spicing the steaks. Not too much, just salt pepper and a little of his mom's beef seasoning- he doesn't know how sensitive werewolves are to scents and such. 

He rolls two potatoes in butter and wraps them in foil, then carries the steaks out to the fire pit. There's plenty of wood lying around, so he gathers a few logs, chucks them in, and lights a match. 

Soon the crispy scent of burning wood is swirling all around, and the fire's lapping nice and high. He waits a while, just sitting and watching the woods, hoping his roommate slash neighbor will come out and say hi. 

Granted, he has no idea what he'll do when an actual wolf comes walking toward him. There is no plan for  _ that _ part of the plan. 

When he feels the fire's heat get closer, he puts the steak and potatoes on. 

Bucky clears his throat, "I know you're there. I, uhm, well, I got some steaks…"  _ four… I got you four goddamn steaks, _ "if you like that kind of thing. I mean, everyone likes steak, right?" 

Silence.

"No? You don't like steak?" Bucky idly kicks at some stones on the ground, "You could always come out here and tell me what you like."

He feels a brief and fleeting chill down the back of his neck, almost like an answer from the shadows. 

"I'm not afraid of you, you know."  _ Which is bizarre, you're a fucking wolf, _ "But I'll wait. Maybe you'll change your mind." 

He flips the steaks and sits back, his mouth now watering because it's starting to smell really good.

About an hour passes during which Bucky scrolls through his phone, texting Becca and glancing up at the treeline every two seconds, expecting to see the yellow eyes looking back.

"Come on. Nothing? You went through all that trouble to get noticed, and now you're shy?"

The steaks are ready, so he pulls them off the fire and cuts a piece off. 

He takes a bite and hums loudly despite it being too hot to eat just yet, maybe hearing him enjoy the food will entice the wolf to come out.  _ He got four fucking steaks!  _

_ And werewolf biscuits, for god's sake!!! _

The sun is about to set behind the mountain, and the woods stay silent and dark out ahead, not a single stirring in any direction. Bucky's starting to feel a little deflated after all the excitement over this bullshit today. 

Perhaps it was remarkably stupid on his part. Werewolves?? Come on.

"Yeah, alright," he says, "Bad idea. The fuck is wrong with me, anyway?" He starts packing up the leftover steaks and potato in quick, rough movements. Becca was right probably; living so far away wasn't a good idea. He's clearly lonely enough to start imagining stuff. 

He's huffing in self-pity when a sound from beyond the clearing shuts him right up.

A deep growl, a rumble so rough and guttural that he becomes frozen where he stands. But his heart leaps far away from reality, his stomach overflowing with butterflies. 

It's him.

When Bucky looks down, the thick mist has blanketed the clearing again, billowing in waves toward him.

And from the treeline, the wolf emerges. 

Bucky puts the steaks down with a haphazard clatter, swallows, and turns toward him. 

He's about waist-high, golden tawny fur with long, soft-looking black ears, and in the fire's light, his eyes gleam a bright yellow.

His shoulders shift as he approaches; it makes his coat glimmer and move in a way that has Bucky completely dumbfounded.

He is  _ beautiful. _ Far beyond majestic, far beyond magical, beyond any words Bucky knows to describe him. 

Bucky realizes his skin is covered in goosebumps, head to toe, he is completely enamored. 

"Hi…" he shivers out, feeling himself grin in awe. 

The wolf huffs and comes to a standstill a little way off, just a meter or so from Bucky. His head is slightly dipped as he takes in the surroundings before settling that golden gaze back on Bucky. 

A moment passes between them, the wolf's burning yellow eyes boring into Bucky like he's trying to see a place deep inside, like he's trying to uncover or perhaps bury something there. 

"Uhm…" Bucky says, standing stock still.

The wolf's head snaps away, and Bucky swears he looks confused for a second, frustrated. He's seen that look somewhere before, but he can't recall …

The wolf sits down, and the mist around them dissipates. 

"Oh, that's you? You do that? With the mist?" Bucky relaxes a little, sitting down on his camping chair—mostly because his legs are basically jelly right now. "It's pretty cool." 

He just gets a flat stare from the wolf. 

"I got some extra steaks. You can help yourself." he points to the plate on the rim of the fire pit, but the wolf looks away uninterested. "What? You a vegetarian?" Bucky says and giggles at himself. 

He shuts his mouth when the wolf tips his head to the side in the most ‘really bitch' gesture Bucky's ever seen.

And fine, maybe they're not meant to do anything right now but sit here, pointedly not acknowledging the situation, and wondering if they've each just made a new friend. 

The moon eventually shifts to its place high above them, and the fire simmers down to crackling embers, the breeze cool now, and where Bucky's skin responds with goosebumps, the wolf's fur thickens to ward off the chill. 

He seems fluffy enough to hug, Bucky thinks. Of course, he doesn't dare. All he does is stare helplessly in awe until the wolf turns his head.

His eyes flare yellow the moment they lock with Bucky's.

And Bucky thinks,  _ Wow... _

* * *

Tangles thinks the wolf doesn't know he's staring. 

He can stare all he wants; he's not clever with his steaks and potatoes no matter what he thinks. What  _ is _ he thinking anyway, luring a wolf out to him? And then staring at him like this, all wondrous and star-struck.

The wolf looks to the side fully intent on glaring him down, making him look away, but instead, his eyes respond with an uncontrollable glow… the way they always had with…

For a moment, the wolf doesn't know what to do, and he's left staring into Tangles' eyes, and it is a deep leveling thing he hadn't been prepared for. 

His face, his eyes, his scent—god his scent—his mouth… the way his heart sounds in his chest—all of him. 

"I'm James, by the way, or Bucky for short," he says when they've just been staring at each other for far too long. 

The wolf snaps out of his trance and gets up, starts backing away—away from this feeling inside, away from Tan—Bucky's scent, away from the urge to….

"Hey, no wait…" Bucky calls after him, but the wolf keeps moving.

He spins around with a growl and darts off into the woods as fast as he can go, farther and farther up the mountain until his paws hit the soft grass surrounding Riley's rock.

Then his chest erupts in a deafening howl, frustrated and longing and uncertain.

Far away in the distance, inaudible to everyone but him, the pack he left behind answers.

They always do. After all these years. Even if he doesn't want them to.


	5. Chapter 5

There is no sleep. 

Bucky stares out of the cabin's window at the full moon above all night. The beautiful wolf and their earlier encounter is the only thing on his mind. He wonders why the wolf ran off, why he got so skittish suddenly. Perhaps he didn't like the steaks and Bucky's jokes. He won't be the first.

By the time he finally drifts off, the woodpeckers announce their presence and intention to build a new home in the tree right beside his bedroom. So he blearily gets up and shuffles to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee.

An icy wind meets him on the way down, and he enters the lounge to find the door half-open. 

In the opening, the wolf is asleep, curled into a small ball of fur that seems entirely impossible for his actual size. His long, black ears twitch, so he knows Bucky is there, but he doesn't move. 

"Well then," Bucky says, smiling, "Morning." 

The wolf's ears perk up, clearly tracking Bucky's every move.

Bucky snickers to himself and starts making coffee, "You know, in town, they say there are werewolves up on these mountains."

The wolf's head whips to him, eyes a little wide and bewildered, they shift from a pale yellow to glowing gold.

"Yeah. If you were one of those, I'd make you a cup too." he holds up his coffee like a prize, and the wolf snorts at him, looking away. 

There's an off chance that this whole werewolf thing might just be a legend, a ghost story like Nick said, and that Bucky has read one too many fairy tales as a kid.

But there is also a chance that it might be true, and Bucky's curiosity far outweighs his sensibility right now. 

He very nonchalantly climbs over the wolf and takes a seat on one of the steps outside. It's early enough that the sun is still hidden, and the breeze is still chilled with night air, and tiny dew droplets still cling to the plants. 

"You know if you're gonna open the door, you might as well come inside." he takes a sip of coffee, "It's much warmer in there, anyway."

The wolf just glances at him sideways and then at the cabin. Bucky gets a little thrill up his spine each time the wolf moves, his coat looks so lush and long, and shiny Bucky aches to reach out and touch. He's not sure it'll be well received, though. Perhaps once he's a little less jumpy around Bucky. 

They've been sitting in silence, eyes cast out over the clearing, for a while. Bucky has to admit it's nice. Having a companion up here is certainly a plus. Still, sitting here in awe of a wolf all morning won't get shit done. 

"Alright," he says, getting up, the wolf shifts to the side, "Gotta get to work."

Bucky goes upstairs and changes into old sweats and a vest and ties his hair up on his head, half expecting the wolf to have gone when he gets back. 

But he's still there, now sitting up, looking like he's waiting for Bucky. His head tilts sideways when he sees Bucky's left arm, the prosthetic attached to his shoulder, and the white scars that mar his skin. 

"Got it in combat. You like it?"

The wolf has the same glare as Becca when Bucky makes light of his disability, but Bucky is surprised to find him coming closer. He sniffs the air, his eyes set inquisitively on Bucky's arm like he wants to inspect it.

So Bucky kneels level with the wolf. Carefully and hesitantly, the wolf sniffs all along the ridge of scar tissue and then down to Bucky's elbow. 

Bucky turns his palm upward, a slow, smooth movement that won't cause his new friend to startle.

The wolf, in fact, doesn't even notice. His snout nudges at Bucky's wrist, and he makes a low, rumbling sound. 

And then he lifts his head and plonks it down on Bucky's shoulder.

"Oh! What… are you… okay… I guess we're hugging." Bucky laughs, "Want me to hug you back? Are we friends now?" 

The wolf doesn't move, he only huffs and wriggles his head, so Bucky takes it as a yes. 

His fingers thread into the silky fur as he wraps his right arm around the wolf's back. He's just as soft as he looks, he's warm too, warmer than Bucky had been expecting, but he is definitely all muscle beneath the brilliant coat. 

He could easily snap Bucky in half just like that, yet still, Bucky has a hard time believing he would. 

The hug doesn't last too long. It still leaves Bucky smiling, even when the wolf skitters off and glares at Bucky from outside. 

And so, Bucky carries on with work around the cabin, clearing out some excess debris, shooting out the gutters, and stacking up more firewood for the fast-approaching winter months.

The wolf sits quietly lonesome off to the side and minds his own business. He probably thinks Bucky doesn't feel those yellow eyes boring into his back, it's the same sensation as before—the soft ripple beneath his skin, fine neck hairs standing on end—but now he knows the source. He knows who's watching.

It's kind of cute the way he pretends not to be interested in what Bucky's doing- snapping his head away when Bucky looks in his direction, side-eyeing to another level, secretly sniffing the logs Bucky tosses in a pile near him.

"Bet you're really strong; some help would be nice, you know!" Bucky grunts, tossing a few large rocks into the woods.

The wolf turns his head away quickly with a defiant little jut. 

"No? Fine. Be like that."

Midday rolls around. The sun and the season's last bit of heat has Bucky sweating as he rakes the footpath. It's only him up there, so he strips off his shirt, uses it to wipe the sweat away, and tucks it in the back of his sweats.

Just then, the wolf makes a hapless noise, and when Bucky turns to look, his eyes glow bright even in daylight. His head is pointedly turned away from Bucky.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asks, walking back up to him.

The wolf does that sideways glaring thing again.

"Hungry?" Bucky kneels in front of him, "Yeah, me too." He dares to bring a hand up and scratch the wolf's head.

For about two and a half seconds, the wolf's eyes flutter a little, and he looks like he's really enjoying the attention, and the next, his yellow eyes snap open, and he nudges Bucky hard enough in the chest to topple him over.

"Hey!!" he calls after the wolf who is honest to god strutting away, his lush tail swinging all self-satisfied.

Bucky pushes up from the dirt and dusts off his butt, "Asshole. What'd you do that for, huh?"

The wolf shakes out his coat, his thick silky mane swooshing and glimmering in the midday light. Bucky thinks, yeah, he's an asshole, but he's a goddamn beautiful asshole.

"Anyway, I'm getting calzones, Grumpy. You want one?"

There's a quick movement from the wolf as if he's shifting from one foot to the other, Bucky would almost call it excitement, but his face is still impassive.

"Yeah. Like I said: Grumpy. That's your name now, until you shift—is that the word?—and tell me your real name."

The wolf's lip curls upward in a docile and meek warning that has Bucky chuckling to himself.

He pulls his phone out and orders from Alpha's again. The kids in the background argue over who's going up Shallow's Pass this time.

Bucky cleans up and puts some fresh clothes on, and by the time he's done the wolf is dozing on his porch, stretched out in a patch of sunshine. Bucky decides to just sit on his couch for a little while until the food arrives.

It's relatively peaceful for a long time; Bucky gets so sleepy that he doesn't register the delivery bike whirring noisily up the footpath.

The wolf, however, does. He shoots up, quick as lightning, and vanishes just as fast, leaving only a trail of wind in his wake.

It's the same kid, Peter, who brings the food up again. Bucky bets he's permanently drawn the short straw with deliveries. He looks edgy already, which is kind of comical now that Bucky knows what he's afraid of.

A grumpy, fluffy, snobbish man-wolf, that's what.

"Hey, Mr. Mountain Guy." Peter comes up a little further toward the cabin this time, "How's it going?"

Bucky casts a brief look around, wondering where Grumps went. "Hey, kid. Good, thanks. You?"

Peter hands the pizza over, "Alright. We missed you at the grill yesterday; they had karaoke night."

"Ah, so you were sent to check on me."

"N-no? No… maybe. Okay yes. But it's only because we're worried, you know. How's it been up here?" Peter looks bewitched suddenly, "Seen any… uhm—"

Bucky laughs, it kind of echoes, "What? Werewolves??" he snorts sarcastically over his shoulder, at the general woody area where he thinks his new friend is lurking, "Pssh. Nope. Not around  _ here!" _ he shouts deliberately at the shrubs.

Peter looks at him funny, frowning, "Okay… good? That's good, right?"

"Hm."

"Because, you know—"

Just then, a thick ball of mist billows out from behind the cabin. It curls and twists around the log pillars and seeps through the floorboards, cascading down the little steps as if it were alive and comes to a flat, blanketed stop around Peter and Bucky's ankles.

Before Bucky even looks up at Peter, he's already hurried off to the delivery bike, waving over his shoulder, "Ah!… See you, Mr. Mountain Guy! I, uh, gotta go now, lots of deliveries to do!" but his caddie is empty.

Bucky tries as hard as he can not to laugh, watching Peter wrangle the bike down the mountain with nervous little jerks this way then that.

He turns around, pizza box in hand, the other one held out in the air as the mist dissipates. "You just  _ had _ to, huh?? Gotta teach me how you do that."

Bucky's is almost inside when the wolf peeks around the back corner of the cabin, luminescent eyes flicking to the footpath to make sure the intruder has gone, and then he struts out self-assured and glaring and adorable.

He doesn't follow Bucky inside or eat the calzone that Bucky places on a plate on the coffee table; in fact, he doesn't do much for about an hour. Bucky eats, quietly observing his new buddy, silently hoping he shifts into a person even if that notion is slowly starting to lose ground.

The wolf must be bored by then because he stretches out, long and lazy, then bounds down the steps and over the clearing, picking up speed as he hurtles toward the woods.

And just like that, he's gone again.

Bucky falls asleep a few hours later, and he dreams of wolves and trees and mist, and golden-yellow eyes watchful around every corner.

* * *

The wolf returns to the cabin when the sky has already gone dark.

Seasons are changing, and yet Bucky leaves his door wide open. For the wolf?? Maybe.

Bucky is nicer than he'd been expecting. Nice in many ways too. Especially nice to look at.

The wolf eyes his sleeping form on the couch, the tiny prickle of goosebumps on his arms and stomach where his shirt rides up, and he sighs.

There's no denying any of this any longer. The last time the wolf felt such an incredible pull to anyone was with Riley- when they were eighteen and their eyes glowed at each other in response to the bond. They imprinted only weeks after that and were never apart again. And when they took Riley from him, he felt the bond shatter, and he thought those jagged pieces would cut him up ever after.

But then Bucky happened.

Wolves mate for life. He knows how rare it is to find another mate and re-tether the bond. But here he is, unable to keep his eyes from shifting when Bucky looks at him. Unable to use his magic on him.

The wolf bows his head and initiates the shift. As always, mist envelops his form, and when it fades a second later, he is a man. He is Sam.

He bends down and scoops Bucky up in his arms, "You fool," he whispers. He smiles at the way Bucky's face twitches sleepily as he gets carried up the stairs.

Once they reach his room, he takes care to lay Bucky down and cover him up, without waking him. He's not sure he's ready to be seen like this just yet. Besides, he doesn't exactly know how to break the news that he really  _ is _ a shifter, a wolf, and that they are destined mates.

He doesn't think there's any delicate way to put this. He's not even sure if he should say anything at all. It does nothing but confuse him anyway.

Softly, he runs a finger through Bucky's hair, a tender touch that sparks right through him like a fountain. He tugs the duvet up just a little more before he jumps out the bedroom window.

It's quite a jump, but before he hits the ground, he's a wolf again.

And he runs and runs and runs toward the moon on the mountain top.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway mark! Shit gets exciting after this!
> 
> Thanks for the feedback :)

They dance around each other for another week or so. 

The wolf is asleep on Bucky's doorstep every morning. Bucky offers him coffee. The wolf never shifts. And the temperature drops rapidly with each passing day. 

Their routine—yes, they have that now—goes like this. 

Bucky starts work in the clearing, collecting logs, chopping them up, stacking them on the pile beside the house, and planting some seeds for winter flowers. The wolf watches with eyes as bright as the autumn sun itself, raptly following Bucky's every move. 

He started memorizing the wolf's little mannerisms. Early morning he'll sit upright, moving from spot to spot, following the sun around. Close to midday, he starts stretching out long and lazy in the fresh grass near the woods. Sometimes he gets silly and wriggles around on his back, making growly, grunting noises. Still, as soon as he catches Bucky admiring, he shoots up, snarls and darts into the woods. 

He returns for lunch but never eats with Bucky; he's licking his lips though so he might have… caught something on his run. The thought alone leaves an excited shiver curling up Bucky's spine. He is probably foolish for it. 

As soon as the sun sets, the wolf gets a little restless. He's tense, alert, not jumpy exactly, but like he could bolt at any given time. Most nights, he does. Those nights, while Bucky is still awake, he hates the emptiness left behind once the wolf is gone. 

Which is all very ironic since he moved up here to be alone. 

But every morning when he wakes up, the wolf is right there- pretending to be asleep and ignoring Bucky like an asshole. 

Today it's raining blissfully, and the sky is dark gray, flashing with strokes of lightning every couple of minutes. So there's no working in the clearing; instead, Bucky's cabin smells like coffee and toast, and he's stretched out under a blanket on the couch, Netflix on his phone and nursing his 4th caffeine fix.

"Just come inside," Bucky says to the wolf, "It can't be fun out there." 

The wolf side-eyes him.

"Look. Blankets, snacks, entertainment. It's nice." he makes his point by snuggling deeper into the couch cushions. 

This seems to spark some interest. He peeks around inside the cabin, sniffing in the kitchen's direction, then Bucky's. 

He lifts his butt and shuffles inside by like 10cm and sits down again. 

"Well, okay,  _ Grumpy," _ Bucky says with a mocking lilt, which earns him a snort from the wolf. 

As the day drags by, the wolf inches closer and closer until he's finally laying at the foot of the couch. Bucky's too excited to move; he stays real still, so he doesn't bug his new buddy. 

Once he hears the wolf snoring softly, he reaches down and dares to thread his fingers through the long soft fur on the wolf's back. For a second, he thinks he ruined it when the wolf stirs, but he doesn't run off. Instead, he turns a little to the side and lets Bucky scratch his chest. 

Bucky's not freaking out or anything. He's chill. He's  _ so _ chill. 

So he lies there- Netflix in one hand, his other hand playing around in the wolf's lush coat. 

They stay that way for probably an hour or so. The wolf is more peaceful than Bucky has ever seen him before. 

Eventually, Bucky's phone rings, and to his surprise, it's the pizza place in town. 

"Checking up on me again, huh?" he says when he answers.

Peter stutters on the other side. Someone says,  _ "Just ask him."  _

So the kid says,  _ "Uhm, hey Mr. Mountain Man. The guys… us here in town... You know, Sharon and Misty and me and Ned—this is Peter by the way, who delivered your pizza—well we were wondering if you'd uhm… we all getting together for drinks and they got a band playing tonight at Howlers, so we were wondering—" _

_ "Just give me the phone." _ another guy's voice says, and a rustle follows. 

_ "Hey! It's Ned! Wanna come hang out tonight at the grill? We thought you'd like some company." _

Bucky grins, feeling enormously flattered, "Oh, yeah sure. That's real nice of you, kid." 

_ "Great! See you, say, seven-ish."  _

"Sure thing."

When he hangs up, the wolf's staring at him. 

"What?!" 

He huffs, looking away.

"You heard that, didn't you? Got super hearing or something like that, huh? You wanna come with? You can come with."

He guesses the growl is a no. 

Bucky cleans up a bit, straightens out the kitchen, washes the dishes, and to his amazement, catches the wolf in the act of rearranging the pillows on his couch with his teeth. "Thanks," he says, when they just stare at one another, half expecting him to bolt again like he always does. 

Instead, the wolf breaks eye contact and continues his task, which is kind of adorable. 

Once Bucky is showered, shaved, and ready to go, the wolf is gone. He tells himself he can't possibly be upset about the wolf leaving. That doesn't change the fact that he is.

When he's on his way, he sees a brief flash of glowing yellow eyes in his rear-view mirror as the truck rounds the mountain's curve.

The grill, however, is packed, it seems the band had already set up and started playing.

Bucky finds Misty, Sharon, Peter, and Ned at the table closest to the bar. They're clinking shot glasses already and throwing it back.

"Hey," Bucky says and sits down next to Ned.

"Well, hey, look at you!" Sharon says excitedly, gesturing to his outfit.

Bucky's cheeks flush hot. He went for dark skinnies, a white t-shirt, and his leather jacket with his hair loose down his back. He guesses it does look kind of good.

"Started without me, I see," he says. 

"No, no, just got here, just warming up—Scotty!" Sharon gestures the barman closer. She points at Ned and Peter, who are typing away on a laptop, "No more for you two."

Ned makes a face at her.

"What're you two up to?" Bucky asks when Scott brings over a tray of drinks. 

"Werewolf business." Misty says, "Again."

"Still. Always." Ned says, "Anyway, we got some new info on the packs who used to live here. Dates all the way back to the fifties. We're setting up a timeline, speculative locations, and where the surviving members might have settled now, you know, based on previous habitats." 

Bucky's thinking,  _ you'd have a goddamn heart attack if you knew what I knew.  _ Because for now, he is still 100% sure that the wolf also has a human form. There's something in the way he carries himself, the presence he exudes… Bucky knows there's more. 

Instead, he says, "Didn't you say you saw one up in the woods? White dude, red eyes?"

Peter nods, tipping his coke into his mouth, he swallows, "Yeah, yeah. We did. We still don't think his pack's around anymore. He might be the only one who wanders around… well, you know... Your cabin. Woah! Maybe he's a ghost!"

Ned narrows his eyes at Bucky and hones in, "You haven't seen him by any chance, have you? Glowing red eyes in the dark, lurking behind tree trunks, a consuming presence—" 

Sharon knocks Ned's shoulder with her beer, "Cut it out, will ya?"

Peter and Ned giggle, still looking at Bucky expectantly. 

"Nope," he says and laughs, "No red eyes." Which is not a lie at all. His wolf has yellow eyes. 

_ His _ wolf, huh?

Yeah.

He smiles. 

Scott brings over a basket of chicken wings, some seafood snacks, fries, and kebabs, and they all dig in with fervor. The music gets louder, the drinks come quick and go even faster, they play Never Have I Ever (it's a tradition), Truth or More Truth (it's obligatory), and Misty and Bucky share some family recipe ideas for next summer's menu (she's a total foodie). 

Before long, Bucky is buzzed, and he's warm all over, happy and grinning, watching his new friends contently. Maybe it's the liquor talking, but he's missing one specific friend right now. All he can think of is getting back to his cabin and waiting for those yellow eyes to come strutting out of the woods. 

They have a few more drunken rounds of karaoke and do a couple more shots of moonshine. When it's time to go, Scott graciously offers to drive Bucky's truck back to his cabin with Sharon and Misty tailing them to take Scott home. 

On the long winding road up the mountain, Bucky sees him. 

At first, it looks like fast-flying fireflies, like smudges of tiny yellow streetlights, speeding up the mountain parallel to the car but in between the trees to his left. 

His body flushes with a rush of goosebumps, even in his intoxicated state. 

He huffs out a laugh, and he knows, somehow, that the wolf is smiling too. Mockingly, most likely, because he's faster than a car. But it warms Bucky's heart all the same.

* * *

He hides out in the shadows until Bucky's town friends have gone and then helps the poor sucker inside his own house with the intention to usher him upstairs and into bed. 

But apparently, Drunk Bucky has different plans. 

"'Speanutbutter… you want?" he says, holding up a sandwich. Then as if he knows the wolf's inner response, he shrugs, "Your loss, Grumps. What'z your real name, hm? Grumps?" Drunk Bucky giggles and sits down on the kitchen floor with his long legs sprawled out and pats the space next to him, "Tell me. 'C'mon."

He is a complete idiot. The wolf doesn't move. 

"Fine. S'okay." Drunk Bucky puts his half-eaten 'Speanutbutter' sandwich down on the floor, getting some in his long hair, and stumbles to his feet. "Sleepytime," he says. 

He is a hot fucking mess when he's had a few, the wolf thinks. 

The wolf sticks close to him on the stairs, so he doesn't fall the hell over and break his neck, and they make it safely to Drunk Bucky's bed. He just falls onto it face-first, groans then mumbles about things spinning and bad ideas before drifting off into a seemingly dead sleep. 

The wolf can't exactly leave him like this, weak and stupid. So against his better judgment, he hops on the mattress and balls himself up in the corner with his back to the wall, facing Drunk Bucky. 

It's way past midnight now; he might as well stay. 

And so, the wolf surrenders to sleep as well. 

At some point during the night, thick mist starts enveloping the wolf's form, shifting his bones from wolf to man in a quiet, peaceful transition. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you guys wanted human Sam huh?

Bucky knows the moment he blearily blinks awake, that those last few purple moonshines were a shockingly bad idea, however good it tasted at the time. 

He's still in his jeans and leather jacket, even his shoes are still on. "Jesus fucking shit…" he groans and sits up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes against the harsh daylight that streams into his room. 

"Well, damn." a croaky voice behind him says.

Bucky about dies of shock and flings himself around so hard, he tumbles off the bed.

After a significant crash and a blinding pain shooting through his head, he looks up.

There's a beautiful, naked black dude in his bed.

"Uh…" he says unintelligently, and stares because, well…  _ there's a hot naked dude in his bed??!! _

The man looks vaguely familiar so Bucky immediately starts going through last night's events. While he's no stranger to waking up to naked people between his sheets—and he is certainly not opposed to this particular one being naked between his sheets—he is usually naked too following a drunken one-night stand. 

He's trying to remember hooking up, but he's blank. He's so sure he’s seen him before but he would have remembered if he got lucky enough to take this man home. He can't… he doesn't know… 

And then the man's eyes glow yellow at Bucky. 

"Hey," Naked Guy says and shoots Bucky a lazy, lopsided smile. Naked. Very very naked. His eyes fade off to a deep brown again.

It takes Bucky a couple of seconds between thinking that it's the best fucking smile he's ever seen, and 'oh my god, it's  _ him' _ to actually form a word.

Still, all he manages to say is, "It's you!" then slowly as he's getting to his feet and Naked Guy rises from the bed, Bucky squeals, "Holy shit!!! It's you!!! I knew it!!!" he starts laughing hysterically. 

Laughing too, the wolf... the guy says, "Yeah, it's me. Calm down, champ." 

"Oh my god, this is  _ insane _ , do you know that? This is  _ insane!"  _

A part of him knew. He just knew. But a skeptical voice in his head kept telling him that it's all fairy tales and ghost stories and legends, and there's no way the wolf he befriended was just a wolf. There's just no way. 

But now Grumps is standing right in front of him, thick muscles and flawless umber skin and the most beautiful eyes Bucky had ever seen, be they yellow or brown. Gorgeous long tresses of dreadlocks cascading down his shoulders and back. As well as some other, very impressive parts of his anatomy, but Bucky's trying to focus here. 

Naked Guy, who has no compunctions about his bare body, comes closer to Bucky. He seems to be studying him carefully, cautiously, before deciding that Bucky is harmless. Except maybe for his hungover morning breath. 

"I planned on showing you at some point," he says. Bucky feels completely exposed under his gaze.

"Probably not naked in my bed, huh?" Bucky says, shivery and swallowing hard.

Grumps—Bucky should really ask for a name—shrugs and licks his lips, "Why? Does it bug you?" 

Bucky's head involuntarily dips down, he clears his throat, "Hm. Uhm no. No. It's fine." He gestures airily to the man's body and looks away, "That's fine." 

"Good, 'cause I'm hungry." 

Finally, Bucky thinks through his haze of amazement, he's  _ finally _ going to share a meal with his new friend instead of said friend running off into the woods to hunt bunnies or whatever it is he does. 

He manages to snap himself out of it. "Yeah. I need to get cleaned up first. Hey, you got a name or what?" 

Naked wolf guy sniffs the air in Bucky's direction, "Ain't so bad," he says, low and sultry, and then he makes his way to the door. 

Bucky tries very hard and very unsuccessfully not to look at his ass. 

"I'm Sam," he says over his shoulder with yellow eyes this time. Gah...

Feeling a little dizzy, Bucky grins, "Hey, Sam." 

So wolf Sam is very different from actual Sam, Bucky comes to find as they're having breakfast cereal on Bucky's couch.

"You're a lot less—" he snaps his fingers in search of the word "—glary, like this."

"Oh, yeah, the wolf's an asshole," Sam says. He's still naked, only a couch cushion in his lap.

"Is he now?" Bucky smiles, taking a sip of his extra strong, black coffee, "Didn't notice." 

Sam quirks up a brow, "I am the son of an _alpha,_ alright. The wolf can be an asshole if he wants."

"Oh, I get it. Okay. Sorry, Your Highness." 

Sam snorts and scoops up the last bites of cereal. Bucky takes a moment to let this all sink in. He's sitting in a cabin on a mountain with a naked man whose eyes glow in the dark and who just so happens to transform into a wolf at will. 

For a second, he feels like he can't breathe, that his worst fear has come true. He really has lost his mind, and Becs was right- that moving so far away from home while still, a little war-tender was a grossly horrible idea. But then he sucks in some air and reminds himself that it's as simple as asking. 

"So this is a thing, huh? Werewolves? You. You're real?" 

The question seems to only briefly throw Sam off. "Well. I'm here, ain't I? You can see me, can't you?" 

"That's part of the concern, yes," Bucky mumbles and takes another long swig of piping hot coffee. 

Sam then lifts his leg and flops it down on Bucky's thigh, "Feel. I'm very real." 

Humoring Sam, Bucky pokes his calf. "You're ridiculously hot," he blurts out. Sam's eyebrows shoot up, and he grins, "No, god, I mean like your skin, you feel hot. You're hot, not like you're  _ hot _ hot."

"Relax, champ," Sam says, getting up to stretch. He flicks his hair over his shoulder, "You don't think I'm hot. I get it." Then he's sauntering off toward the door, and Bucky can tell just by the way he walks he knows that's not what Bucky thinks at all. 

He clears his throat, "Where're you going? I got questions!" He follows Sam outside, down the steps, and into the clearing.

The day is not exactly overcast, but the sun is dull and muted and struggling through the trees.

"I gotta run," Sam says.

"Where to??"

"No, just run, dude." 

"Why? Just sit with me?"

Sam looks at him like he has grown two heads. "I. Have. To. Run, James."

Bucky smiles to himself. Must be a werewolf thing. _Werewolf._ Jesus Christ. "Yeah, okay. I need more coffee anyway." 

Sam rolls his neck and shakes his arms out, his back's turned to Bucky, "Won't be long."

After a moment, the thick familiar mist starts gathering at Sam's feet. It swirls up from his calves and thighs and hips until there is only a foggy resemblance of a man. 

When the mist drops away, the wolf he had come to know is standing in Sam's place, his eyes now bright yellow. He shoots Bucky a mischievous look and darts off lightning-fast toward the wooded area. 

Bucky feels the earth thump with his departure, and he laughs incredulously at this whole situation. 

Because it is ridiculously mad. It's a goddamn fairytale.

He makes another cup of coffee, picks up a dreary looking, half-eaten peanut butter sandwich from the floor—what the hell??—and wraps a throw blanket around himself before he heads back outside. 

To his surprise, the wolf comes speeding out of the woods and runs wild circles around the clearing. He's almost too fast for Bucky to see; it's just a majestic sephia blur that leaves a spiral of dust in its wake. 

Bucky sits and watches as he weaves between the trees and rocks. He runs with boundless energy, his tongue lapping from the side of his mouth, he's in his element. Birds in the treetops chatter furiously at the disturbance, wings flapping as they scatter away. 

When his phone vibrates, he startles so hard his coffee spills. 

It's his sister. 

**_Becs:  
_ ** _Wyd?_

_ Watching a werewolf burn off excess energy, how about you? _

He snaps a photo of the clearing in the early morning light- tones of yellow, green, and orange filtering through the trees.

**_To Becs:_ ** _  
_ _ I _ _ mage_62178.jpg  
_ _ Enjoying the view. _

She sends him a photo of Brooklyn at dawn, all lights and cars and people and street signs. He doesn't care for it at all.

**_Becs  
_ ** _ Image_98153.jpg  
_ _ Mine's better  
_ _ What's new, Bonky? Make any friends? Ma's worried about you. _

**_To Becs:  
_ ** _ Yeah, couple of guys from town. Went out last night. _

She replies with a row of party emojis and a yellow hand flipping him the bird. 

Sam shows up a second later in a quick puff of mist that seems to settle as soon as it arrives. He's naked again, glistening with a light sheen of sweat all over. He twists his dreadlocks into a bun behind his head to cool off and comes toward the steps where Bucky sits. 

"So," he says, happily out of breath, "You said something about questions?" 

Bucky struggles to keep his eyes from wandering. "Yeah, starting with, do you have any intention to wear pants? Ever?" 

"So it _does_ bother you. Huh." Sam smiles, knowingly, like he knows Bucky's next words will be that it's more distracting than anything. He then lifts up a small denim duffle bag and places it down on the steps beside Bucky. 

Sam pulls out a pair of jeans and slips it on, then he takes out a dark green hoodie from the bag. And another surprising realization dawns on Bucky. 

"Oh my god, that was you too! In the bar that night. You followed me!" 

"I  _ tracked _ you. And yes. That was me. You were driving me insane."

"Me? Why? I was just minding my own business, pal." 

Bucky leans back on his elbows, sipping on his coffee, he smiles behind the rim of his cup.

"Didn't have it figured out at the time." 

Bucky frowns, "Have what figured out?" 

Sam leans down and claps him on the shoulder, takes Bucky's mug out of his hand, and says, "You ain't ready for that conversation yet, champ." 

He heads inside without another word, barefoot, the hoodie zipped halfway and starts brewing another pot of coffee. 

And leaves Bucky wondering what he could possibly have figured out and what conversation they'd inevitably be having. As if those are the most dumbfounding things to happen on this day.

* * *

Perhaps that wasn't the most subtle reveal in the history of ever, Sam thinks.

He dropped his guard the night before, he got too comfortable. Which is also how he knows this is definitely what he'd been suspecting. He'd only ever sleep-shifted with Riley. 

Bucky follows him inside, still wrapped in a couch blanket, and kicks the door closed. He comes to stand with Sam in the small little kitchen, staring at the side of his face while Sam pours the coffee.

He turns to look at Bucky—looking a hot mess from the night before, hair all over, a little pale—and feels his eyes ignite into a glow. That in itself is a sign— even at his messiest Riley was still the sexiest guy around. It's no different now, apparently. 

Slowly Sam hands the cup over, shivering when their fingers brush, "So. What do you wanna know?" 

Bucky licks his lips, his eyes a sky of sparkling crystals. He takes the coffee with both hands. 

_ "Everything." _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's short and sweet but the next one makes up for it ;)

"So," Bucky says, watching from the kitchen as Sam runs his fingers along Bucky's bookshelf. At the same time, Bucky takes in Sam's muscled back and the bare strip of skin visible between his hoodie and waistband, "The kids in town said they saw a wolf in the woods once."

Sam turns and arches up a brow. He's ridiculously attractive. Bucky's stomach feels strangely hollow, he shifts and clears his throat.

"I kinda make my way around here, yeah." 

"Uh, no, actually, they said it was a white one, red eyes—" at that Sam's head snaps to him, his eyes transitioning to glowing embers again, "—and the… he… they said he turned into a dude. A white dude." 

After a moment of glaring Bucky into the floor, Sam says, "Yeah."

"So you're not the only one then, right? They called it a pack… is he… is he from your pack?"

Now Sam looks a little dejected. He folds his arms over his chest, staring out ahead, "I don't have a pack."

"What? Why? Wolves… they travel in packs, right? You gotta have at least, like your family, a mate. Your—"

"Anymore!" Sam says, louder, he rubs his hands down his face, "I don't have a pack anymore, don't have a mate anymore… Don't have any of those, okay?" He turns to the doorway to stand in the crisp air and sighs.

Bucky walks up behind him and leans against the log wall, and he quietly says, "What happened?" 

Sam gives him an exasperated look, but there's something fond in there too. He turns to Bucky, so they're facing each other now. "He died. Couple of years ago." There's a terrible sadness now in Sam's eyes, where before he'd been playful and sharp with his responses to Bucky's questions. 

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, and after a beat, "Was he the one they saw?" 

Sam shakes his head. "Riley looked like me."

They stand there in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable, and watch the wind blowing leaves across the clearing. A few birds flutter down and peck at the ground. It doesn't look like Sam wants to divulge anything further, so Bucky doesn't prod despite the burning curiosity inside. 

Bucky finally jostles Sam with his elbow, "Hey, I got a few shows on my laptop; don't feel like working outside today. Wanna veg out on the couch?"

To his relief, Sam's lips turn up into a smile, "Yeah. Call that little Parker boy to bring up some pizza." 

"You gonna fuck with him again?" 

Sam shrugs, grinning like mischief itself, "Maybe." 

About twenty minutes later, Sam perks up on the couch and says, "They're here." 

"Who?" 

"Pizza." 

It's only when the scooter starts up his driveway that Bucky hears its rumbling, at which he realizes that Sam must have enhanced hearing. Of course, he does- he's half wolf! 

Bucky goes out to meet Peter and finds Ned on the scooter behind him.

"Hey, Bucky!" Ned calls out. He gets off, grabs some stuff out of the caddie box, and comes over with a bright smile. Peter shuffles up beside him. 

"Hey. What's this?" He inspects the brown paper bag on top of the pizza boxes.

"Oh, we got a special running, two large pizzas and garlic puffs for free!" Peter says, "We tossed in a coke. Only for loyal customers." he grins happily.

"That's cute, kid, thanks. Don't know what it says about my eating habits when—" he trails off, frowning because Ned and Peter's eyes are blown a little wide, and they're staring past his shoulders. "What?" 

He turns to find Sam stretching and yawning on the cabin's porch. "Hey!" he waves once he swallows the yawn.

"Oooh! Mr. Mountain Guy’s got company," Ned mutters under his breath before waving back at Sam, "Hi! I'm Ned, this is Peter."

"Sam," he calls back, looking the epitome of chilled with his hair draped over one shoulder, while Bucky's face is on fire. 

"So. Two large pizzas, huh?" Peter grins. 

"Uhm... yeah." Bucky takes the pizza boxes and Coke from them, slides over a couple of notes, and tries to ignore Sam coming down the steps to help. "Thanks... Now scram." 

They giggle and mount the bike again. Peter waves, "Cheers, Mr. Mountain Guy! Mr. Sam!" 

"Oh, god." Bucky mumbles.

"Watch this," Sam says, and when Bucky looks up, his eyes are glowing, and a thin trail of mist follows Peter and Ned down the mountain. 

"Ahg fuck, it's back!" Peter screams while Ned bats it away, "Oh my god! What  _ is _ this??" The mist stops halfway down the path, collects in a big white ball, then dissipates. Bucky hears their screams all the way down the mountain.

"Show off." He laughs, prodding Sam with the Coke bottle and heads inside. "Let's go. Buffy awaits."

"Aw jeez. With those Halloween costume werewolves." Sam groans but follows him. 

They hit play and dig in right away. Sam trades him a slice of pepperoni for a slice of steak de lux, the garlic puffs disappear quite quickly after that. 

"Oh, garlic's fine, right? That's not bad for wolves or anything?" Bucky suddenly asks.

Sam laughs, "That's t.v vampire shit, champ, not werewolves." He throws his legs unceremoniously over Bucky's lap and continues eating his pizza. 

Bucky swallows hard. 

"So, uh, what kinda stuff is, you know, bad for wolves?" 

For a second, Sam looks pensive, "Silver. We've grown immune to Wolfsbane over the years though, we just use it to get drunk now. But Silver..." His face pulls into a grimace.

"Oh, wow. Alright." Bucky is quiet for a while, "And full moons? You go all crazy and tear the place apart?" 

Sam looks at the calendar on Bucky's wall, just beside the door; the full moon's only two weeks away. Sam smirks. 

It's impossible not to notice how attractive the guy is, especially when he gets all mysterious, and his eyes twinkle with secrets. Bucky remembers with awe that Sam is an actual mythical legend.

"Nah," Sam says, "Only new wolves or younger wolves when they're still learning to shift at will. For us, the full moon only…" he stops and looks at Bucky, wets his bottom lip, "You know. Makes us hot for it." 

Luckily Bucky has nothing in his mouth, or he'd have choked. "Okay. That's. Good to know, pal." 

Sam snorts, and Bucky starts laughing too, and soon they're giggle-snorting like idiots on the couch.

"Seriously, though? That's what happens?" Bucky asks once their laughter has dwindled. Amidst their bout of silliness, Sam's head had somehow ended up in Bucky's lap instead, his long dreads sprawled all over.

His big brown eyes blink up at Bucky, "Yeah. Affects our libidos."

He picks a string of cheese off Bucky's chin and dangles it into his mouth.

"Don't worry," Sam says, "I'll keep my distance."

Bucky settles back and smiles, "Well. Hopefully, not too far." 

* * *

As Bucky's hand comes to rest on Sam's bicep, Sam suppresses the nagging urge inside to shove his face into Bucky's neck or groin and inhale his mate's scent so deep it'll be forever imprinted within. 

He's forgotten how overwhelming this all can be and how hard it is to ignore the impulse to claim them and love on them. With another wolf, it's much easier, they know the feeling, they feel it too. He's never been so enamored with anyone who didn't share his infliction. 

The fact that Bucky has no idea he's even bound to someone this way makes it all the more complicated. How is Sam just supposed to explain that they're destined and not sound absolutely crazy? 

And it'll only get harder the longer Sam stays quiet. Wolves aren't meant to wander alone the way he has, and his wolf won't remain patient. 

He decides instead to enjoy the closeness of their bodies, Bucky's scent enveloping him now, although he wants to drown in it. He snuggles closer, slips his arm beneath Bucky's thighs, and makes a pillow of him. 

Bucky's heart stammers in his chest, like drums playing offbeat and wildly, his scent does an abrupt switch from calm to aroused, and his fingers curl tight around Sam's shoulder.

Sam smiles. 

Perhaps this won't be so hard after all. 


	9. Chapter 9

The first winter snow falls at dawn one morning in the middle of the week. 

Even though Bucky went to bed alone and cold while Sam went sprinting off into the dark woods, he wakes up with the wolf curled up in the bend of his knees, running hot as a furnace.

And it's been like this every morning for two weeks since Sam first revealed himself in human form. Sometimes Bucky wakes up to the wolf's head on his pillow too, and he experiences a brief moment of utter shock before the endearment sets in. 

Other mornings the wolf is asleep, belly up, at the foot of the bed covered in dried leaves and mud. Naturally, Bucky moans about it; he's washed more loads of bed sheets than a factory. But then the wolf transforms, and Sam stands there buck naked with mud smears on his face and chest and leaves poking out of his dreadlocks. 

Bucky will only stare, agape, as Sam drags himself to the shower. He's not sure if it's the sight of Sam's goddamn fine body or the fact that he's living with a werewolf, but his chest feels like it's on fire, and his stomach squeezes tight. 

Regardless, he wakes up next to Sam every morning—albeit in wolf form—and he's never been happier. 

Somehow they've fallen into a different routine than before: Bucky gets the kettle boiling, scrambles some eggs and gets the bacon going, and the toast pops out just as Sam struts down the stairs. 

"It's fucking freezing," Bucky says one morning, pointing at Sam's bare chest and low hanging sweats. Bucky himself is cocooned in two sweaters and long socks.

And Sam walks up to him, standing closer than Bucky can handle in that unexpected moment and grabs hold of Bucky's wrist. He places Bucky's palm flat on his pec.

Bucky has never felt something so intensely warm that it radiates right through his own skin. At that moment he wants to touch  _ everywhere _ , he wants to slide his hand into Sam's neck, slip his arms around his back and pull him close. He wants this heat to consume him, to feel it all over. 

Instead, he looks up, meeting Sam's eyes. And, fuck…

Bucky's unit once stumbled upon an abandoned mine out in the desert. The walls were eroded and crystallized and, in some places, looked just like cassiterite gems glinting off their torch lights. A swirl of amber and gold and brown. That's what Sam's eyes look like up close. Alive with shades of mahogany and shards of amber crystal.

He sways on the spot, digging his fingers into Sam's skin, "I… uh…" he mumbles, unable to look away, unable to look at anything but Sam's smoldering gaze. Inside him, everything spirals into an untamable cyclone as if his heart is trying to tether to something. 

Sam, for some reason, smiles fondly, and his hand curls around Bucky's, his eyes now impossibly bright. But he looks content, he looks like someone who'd been searching for something all over the world and has finally found it. 

Bucky doesn't get it. Not this feeling inside him, not the look on Sam's face. 

He's about to open his mouth when his phone gives a harsh buzz on the countertop. 

Sam jerks away and rushes out to the little porch. Bucky sees him breathe in the crisp wind, holding his palm out to catch a few snowflakes. 

He drags his eyes away and answers his phone. 

"Yep?" 

_ "Hey, it's Sharon." _

"Oh, hey, what's up?" 

_ "You're on speaker by the way—" _

Sam turns to look at Bucky. He puts his phone on speaker too, "So are you." 

Sharon's voice turns to a smile when she speaks again,  _ "That's great because a little birdy whispered to me that you had some company up in the cabin, yeah?"  _

Bucky groans. Sam smiles. "I do. Yeah. No one ever taught you small-town folk that gossiping is rude?"

_ "Well, you're also small-town folk now, buddy. Anyway listen, it's my birthday, we're celebrating down at the grill tonight." _

"Happy Birthday!" both Bucky and Sam say at the same time. He hears Ned and Peter giggling on the other end of the line. 

_ "Wanna join us? Both of you?" _ she says,  _ "Folks miss you down here, and we'd love to meet your..."  _ her sentence hovers expectantly for Bucky to finish.

Sam gives him two thumbs up, nodding, smiling, and Bucky's head totally leaves him for a second. He just stares at Sam. Fuck, but he's hot. That body, sharp lines of muscle, that arrow cutting down his hips, the perfect bulges of his pecs. 

_ "Yo, Buck-o??"  _ Sharon says.

"Uhm, yes, sorry, we'll be there. Thank you." 

"Great! See you at seven-ish." 

"Seven-ish," Bucky repeats, watching Sam twirl his hair into a bun. 

They eat breakfast in silence mostly because Sam is paging through the newspaper, and Bucky's trying to figure out what happened earlier, why he felt like the world tilted sideways when he looked at Sam. In truth, he can wonder all he wants, but he thinks he knows. 

He thinks maybe he has fallen in love.

He steals a look at Sam sipping coffee, blissfully distracted with the paper, the sharp blue hue of early morning light and snow at his back. 

Sam turns his head. "What?" 

Bucky smiles the moment they lock eyes, and he shakes his head, "Nothing." Which it is definitely not. 

It's something he hadn't been looking for, but it found him anyway. 

* * *

Sharon's doing purple moonshine shots at the bar, and she's wearing a plastic tiara when Bucky and Sam arrive. She's obviously tipsy because the moment she sees them, she squeals. 

"Come, come!" she shouts, and everyone turns to them, but Sharon loses focus and turns to the bar again.

Sam lets Bucky lead the way, placing his hand on the small of Bucky's back as he walks past. 

Peter and Ned are busy on the laptop again. "Hey, Mr. Mountain Guy," Peter grins, "Mr. Sam." 

"Up to their usual, as you can see," Misty says, and then her eyes fall on Sam. "Well, good evening to you, sir. And you are?" 

Sam reaches past Bucky to shake hands with her, "Sam Wilson, ma'am." 

"Welcome to Clover Falls, Mr. Wilson," she says, playfully winking. "Birthday girl's getting wasted." she nods to the bar where Sharon knocks back another purple moonshine with Scott.

"Happy birthday, Miss Carter," Bucky says, and she spins around. Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes glassy already.

"Thank you!" she says and pulls him in for a hug. Sam smiles, amused, at Bucky over her shoulder. 

"This is Sam," He says when they part. "Sam, this is Sharon."

"Nice to meet you. Happy Birthday," Sam says.

"Oh, my," Sharon stares at him, "You are  _ gorgeous!"  _

Sam snorts. "Well, thank you. And you look way younger than the number on that tiara."

She pats Bucky on his shoulder, "And charming. Hmm." then she's quiet for a second, "Hey, come sit down, Food just arrived." 

So they take a seat at the round table beside the bar with Ned and Pete's faces still buried in the laptop, snacking in between whatever they're reading on the screen, and start digging in too. Misty asks about where Sam's from and seems satisfied when he says the southern mountains. Sharon changes the song on the jukebox and dances with Scott, and after a while of chatting, Bucky feels Sam's leg pressed against his under the table. 

The night goes by pretty pleasantly, they laugh, and joke and Bucky narrowly escapes karaoke. Sam charms the hell out of everyone and they're none the wiser that he is actually the legend they've all been speculating about for years. 

Somehow they end up playing Never Have I Ever again. 

Never have I ever ran naked through the woods at night. Sam drinks. They eye him, suspiciously laughing.

Never have I ever climbed to the top of the mountain. Sam drinks.

Never have I ever lost someone. And sadly, they all drink. 

Never have I ever been in love. They all drink, Sam and Bucky do so while sharing a quick glance. 

Never have I ever seen a werewolf. Sam doesn't drink, neither does Bucky. Ned and Peter chug it. 

"Obviously!!" Sharon laughs when the two younger ones put their shot glasses down. 

"I am not arguing this point again," Ned says pointedly and starts nibbling on another rib. 

Peter opens his laptop again, "One day we'll prove you wrong." he says. 

The rest scoff and poke Peter playfully while he swats them away. Sharon and Misty get talking, so Bucky leans toward Peter to see his screen.

"What you guys up to this time?" 

Their faces light up. Ned shifts closer and turns the screen to Sam and Bucky. On it are ancient drawings of wolves, men, and the moon on a web page of some institution. In some depictions, the men and wolves face each other, and a line of stars connect them—from the wolf's head to the man's head—in others, two wolves face each other, and the same line of stars span between them too. 

One of the men facing the wolf has spirally eyes, as if they are hypnotized, while the wolf's eyes are yellow.

It's the last drawing that catches Bucky's eye- one of a wolf and a man reaching for each other, both their eyes gleam yellow, but no stars are connecting them. 

"My brother sent us this. It's an article they found in the archives over at Oxford," Ned tells them.

"He knows we're doing research on supernatural beings," Peter adds. 

_ "He _ thinks it's pretty cool," Ned says and makes his eyes big at Sharon, who, in turn, rolls hers.

"What's it about?" Sam asks quietly. For the first time, he looks nervous. Bucky thinks Sam knows exactly what the article is about. 

Ned puts the rib bone down and lowers his voice. They all lean in. "Apparently werewolves can evoke or manipulate emotions in both men and animals. It's so frikken cool." 

Bucky looks at Sam, "They can what??" He wonders if that's what happened earlier in the kitchen, maybe it wasn't anything he felt, just something Sam made him feel. Literally. 

Sam blinks and looks away. 

"Yeah, yeah, and they use it to disorient prey and chase off enemies." Peter says and shows them the portion on the screen, "Says some are even able to control elements of nature like—"

"Oh my god!" Ned says, "The mist!! At your cabin, Bucky! It's them!" 

Bucky forces himself not to look at Sam, fearing he might give them both away if he does. 

Thankfully Peter talks again and relieves Bucky of coming up with a reply. 

"Oh wait, look at this," he points to a section in the text. It reads: 

_...have reason to believe this last drawing suggests that the wolf is unable to manipulate or otherwise evoke the one he imprints on. And so I hereby conclude that wolves do not have the ability to evoke emotion in their mates or life partners, making for a true state of mind when the bond is formed.  _

"Aw," Ned coos, "That's kind of romantic." 

Before Bucky can place the look on Sam's face, the bell for the last round dings through the bar. 

Eventually, they're the only ones left, and they too start heading out. Sharon, a little more sober now, thanks them all for coming, and Misty drives her home.

The ride back to the cabin is oddly quiet. Sam just stares out the window with a deep frown between his eyes.

Once they get inside, Bucky strips off his extra layers of clothes and stokes up a fire. Sam puts the kettle on and gets two cups of hot chocolate ready. 

"So," Bucky says, hoping to break the silence, "Is it true what they said? About the magic and emotions and whatever?" 

Sam seemingly snaps out of some reverie, and he gives a small smile, "Yeah. All true." 

"Alright. So do it to me then," he says. 

Sam laughs and looks down and shakes his head like he's in on some secret that Bucky doesn't know. 

"What? Come on, I wanna try." 

"I can't," Sam says when he looks up.

"Aw, come on, why not?" Bucky takes a sip from his mug. “I’ve seen you do the mist thing. Come on—”

The cabin is dark; only the full moon streaming through the wooden slats and windows and the flames flickering around them. 

Sam comes closer in a seemingly floating step, and he stops only when he's a breath away from Bucky's body. "I  _ can't _ , _ "  _ he repeats, "use my powers—" his eyes are like the harvest moon against his deep brown skin, "—on my mate."

Bucky is stunned into silence for a good couple of seconds, his eyes fall on Sam's face, not that he minds because it's a pretty great thing to look at. 

Of all the things he could say at this moment, he dumbly whispers, "What?" 

"Christ champ, I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, huh?" Sam says, his mouth now lifting into a soft smile. 

Bucky licks his lips, he shifts forward, "Spell it out. Please." 

"You're the one," Sam says, and then his very warm hand comes up to Bucky's cheek. "I had no idea it could happen again." His fingers brush over Bucky's lips, feather-light, Bucky's eyes flutter shut. "But then I saw you, I  _ felt _ you—" he places his hand over Bucky's heart and says, "In here." 

"I swear if you don't kiss me right now…" Bucky mumbles, dreamily, completely wanton. This ain't magic, this is real. 

A quiet chuckle escapes Sam, "Yeah?"

And Bucky's next words are silenced by Sam's lips. It's like the moment a bomb goes off. The first few seconds of incandescent blindness, an endless shiver deep inside, and when Sam pulls him closer and Bucky feels the heat of his body, everything else subsides, and it's only them in existence. 

Bucky wraps his arms around Sam's neck, lets the kiss deepen until they're breathless and grabbing for each other. It's something unstoppable inside him that begs to be closer, an ache that runs wild in his veins, and only Sam can quiet it. 

"Fuck," he groans when Sam nudges his nose along Bucky's jaw, down his neck, inhaling deep and long. Vaguely Bucky recalls something about the full moon and wolves when he sees the big yellow ball in the sky. 

A low rumble like a growl comes from Sam's chest, "Fuck indeed," he says, his voice like velvet sandpaper. He takes another deep breath of Bucky's scent, and it must be a wolf thing because he leans back with his eyes shut, his head back, practically  _ high _ on it. 

The real kick comes when he looks at Bucky again. His eyes are bright yellow fires, and Bucky's quite used to that by now, but it's the fangs in the opening of Sam's parted lips that totally throws him. 

Bucky feels a hot spike of want pulse through him at the sight. He reaches up and runs his finger along one razor-sharp point in amazement. "Jesus… I'm really about to let a werewolf fuck me, huh?" 

Sam's grin is sharp and a little dangerous, delicious if you ask Bucky, and he says, "I don't know, are you?"

"God, yes." Bucky breathes, and then his lips are back on Sam's. 

From there, it's just a flurry of hands and mouths and touches that turn greedy. They end up on the couch in front of the fire with Sam's pants pulled down to his thighs and Bucky naked in his lap. 

Bucky gets hold of a tube of lube from his shameless, early days alone in the cabin, and slicks his hand up. He's too busy exploring Sam's mouth with his tongue and opening himself up with quick two-finger thrusts to think about much else. 

It's only when Sam draws back breathless, saying, "Wait." that Bucky takes pause.

"Why? What's wrong?" 

They're both panting, eyes blown wide with need, a soft glow all around them, Bucky knows Sam feels this as much as he does.

"There's something… it's uh... god. Look, shit's a little different down there, okay?"

Bucky looks down at Sam's dick, he doesn't see anything peculiar; it's beautiful and hard and thick. 

Still, he says, a little skeptically, "Different how?"

Sam sighs and swallows as if anything he shows Bucky right now could deter him from getting fucked. He's never wanted anything more in his life. 

"Don't freak out," Sam says and takes Bucky's hand and wraps it around his dick. Bucky barely suppresses a moan at the smooth, silky feel.

Sam guides his hand all the way down to the base and then… Oh god and then…

Bucky's eyes shoot up to meet Sam's as his fingers slide over a bulge. Sam sucks in a sharp breath. It's hot to the touch, and soft, protruding from the base of his dick like an extension.

"It's a knot," Sam says, and Bucky strokes over it again, making Sam shudder underneath him. "For… to make," his eyes close, and he sighs blissfully as Bucky squeezes around it. "Oh, shit…"

"Feels good, huh?" he says quietly, working his hand over the bulge a few times slow, "What's it for." 

Sam doesn't look capable of answering anything coherent right now. His eyes roll back, and he arches up into Bucky's touch. He manages to say, "Mating… procreating… wolves."

"Gonna pop a few babies in me, pal?" Bucky chides and leans down to catch Sam's laugh in a kiss. 

"Oh. Wow. You're terrible at dirty talk," Sam says, dazed. 

Bucky slicks up Sam's cock, getting it wet and slippery from tip to… knot, he guesses, and lifts himself up.

He grabs hold of the back of Bucky's neck as he starts easing himself down. Sam's mouth opens beautifully, and his eyes are alight in the shadows. He curls his hand around Bucky's hip, at first holding gently, but once Bucky's rim slips over the knot, he squeezes, sighing with utter contentment. 

Bucky takes a second, staying still, just feeling the incredible stretch, breathing himself through it.

"Come here," Sam says, pulling Bucky to his lips, beginning to guide his hips into a slow pace.

He doesn't get used to the extra fullness; it stays a blissfully agonizing feeling inside him as he moves as if he could never ever get enough, and when he looks down at Sam, he almost comes right there.

He kisses Sam, grinds his hips down, moans something incomprehensible into his mouth, and Sam's grip on him tightens. He makes a desperate sound, something guttural and rough and hungry, then starts fucking up into him. 

Bucky cries out, steadies himself on Sam because that knot is slipping in and out real fast now, he swears it's growing too, and he never wants it to end. 

He's bouncing lewdly, hair falling in his eyes, giving a full-body shudder when Sam reaches down and starts jerking him off. He wants to last, but he won't, not like this. 

"Buck…" Sam says, his voice but a rasp, "Jesus, Buck…." And he sits up, wraps his arm around Bucky's middle, his open, wet mouth against Bucky's chest, head bowed like he's trying to hide.

"Sam… I'm..." 

When Sam looks up, his fangs flash like arrows in moonlight again, and Bucky comes entirely undone. 

He's busy shaking through his orgasm when Sam lets out a low growl, pulls Bucky close again, and comes too. 

The knot's buried to the hilt in Bucky. He feels Sam pulsing. He feels it inside of him like a heartbeat, the warmth of their worked-over bodies, sweaty and tired, clinging on with each steadying breath.

But something else happens: inside of him, his blood prickles and dances to the surface of his skin is, and he feels dizzy and overwhelmed like that morning in the kitchen, and he knows his soul or his heart or maybe all of him has tethered to all of Sam and nothing will ever be the same again. 

Maybe he was wrong… Maybe this is magic, after all. He doesn't know what else feels so euphoric. 

And, watching Sam breathe against his skin, hiding in the crook of his neck, he doesn't mind either.

* * *

The wolf is calm inside him. He'd been half whole for the longest time, and as unbelievable as it seemed at the start, he found someone to piece his heart back together. 

Sam looks at Bucky- spent and clinging to him, as he lowers them horizontally on the sofa. He's still hard and buried in Bucky, still pulsing weakly as he kisses Bucky's neck, and they stay like that as the minutes tick by. 

"Did you feel it?" Bucky whispers, stroking his fingers through Sam's dreads, "Was that… because of the mates thing and all?" 

"That's the bond, yeah." He slips his arm around Bucky, their bodies sweaty and warm from the fire's heat, and as much as he doesn't want to ruin the moment, he has to tell his mate something. It's something that has to be put out there even if Bucky leaving will kill him inside.

So he takes a deep breath and says, "It's sudden, I know, all of this is… what I'm trying to say is yeah we're bonded, we're destined, and all that shit—" Bucky then looks up at him frowning, Sam's voice wavers at the pale cobalt eyes that stare back at him. "But you don't have to stay. With me. Just because of this." 

He holds his breath, and he's not sure what he'd been expecting, but Bucky's shoulders loosen with relief, and he lets out a loud cackle, nuzzling even closer to Sam.

"Oh, honey, if you think I'll let a man who dicks me down like that get away…"

Sam grins impossibly hard, "Well, alright, champ. If that's what you want." he says. 

Bucky strokes the side of Sam's face, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eye. He doesn't say anything, but Sam hears his heart speak. It sounds just like Riley's.

"I can go again, you know. Right now." Sam says.

"Jesus, sweetheart, I don't even know where my fuckin' legs are. Settle down." 

Sam snorts, and Bucky kisses him then. Hard and dirty, holding his face like it's something precious and delicate.

And the wolf inside him howls with joy, it resonates all throughout Sam's body. In his mind's eye, he can see the wolf, leaping through an endless green field, he feels the speed in his bones, carrying him. He is not running  _ toward _ happiness anymore but bounding within it.

He is content. They both are.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the lovely comments and kudos! you guys are great! 
> 
> i will be posting these last 3 chapters consecutively- today, tomorrow and Monday, so keep an eye out for updates!

"So, you've been here a month, and you haven't even explored?" Sam says a couple of days later. Bucky thinks it's because they've spent every day since that first night together rolling around in the sheets, that Sam is now trying to get to know him. 

Bucky doesn't mind one bit, rolling around in the sheets with Sam; those uh, knots changes a man. 

He smirks at Sam over his shoulder, "Well, you know, people kept telling me about the deep dark woods and the big bad wolf. Do you blame me?" 

"You sure weren't scared when you lured me out with some goddamn steaks, were you?" 

Bucky turns away from the coffee he's making and looks at Sam, "I was never scared of you." 

"That's how I knew," Sam says, smiling. Probably because of the failed attempts at scaring Bucky off, driving him nuts with pizza and mist and ominous sounds. 

"You tried your magic on me, and it didn't work, huh?" Bucky feels perhaps just a little self-satisfied about it, kind of special too. 

"Was still entertaining as hell." 

Bucky pours them coffee and hands Sam's mug over to him, before promptly snuggling himself against Sam's side. He inhales the fresh, sleepy scent of Sam and strong coffee and sighs, "So what was that about exploring?" 

Sam gulps down his coffee and plants a swift kiss to Bucky's forehead, "Come on, I'm gonna show you my favorite spot around here." 

Sam's favorite spot turns out to be way up in the goddamn mountain, and while Bucky is in no way unfit, the uphill is no joke. The sights make up for it, though. 

They trek through a thickly wooded area, tall pine trees block most of the sky, but there are gaps where the light comes through and beams into puddles of rain and snow, making them glitter off the ground. The earth is easy and wet under their boots, the air fresh and crisp, smelling of pine and damp wood. There's a thin layer of mist—not werewolf related—seeping through the ground and a few curious birds chirping above them, perched on snow-covered branches. Sam shows him plants and flowers he's never seen before: yellow wolfsbane, red lavender, moonflowers, purple foxgloves, spirals of luminescent ivy. 

And, somewhere in the middle of the hike as they pass through a beam of weak sunlight, Sam slips his hand into Bucky's and intertwines their fingers. 

Sam looks pretty coy about holding hands for someone who had his dick all the way up Bucky's insides the night before. It's adorable, it makes Bucky's heart feel like candy floss, but he can't help wondering how long it's been since Sam's had anyone. 

"You got any family?" Sam asks as they hop over a collection of rocks. 

"Yeah. My mom and sister back in Indiana. Dad passed away a couple of years back." 

Sam ducks under a large fern leaf and holds it up for Bucky to follow, "Yeah, mine too. Why'd you move here?" he asks before Bucky gets to ask anything about the rest of his family or pack. He gets a feeling that's what Sam meant to do. 

Bucky says, "For peace and quiet. You hear enough gunshots and bombs, and you're ready to never hear a goddamn thing ever again." 

Sam hums; he stops to pick a small pink flower from the undergrowth, then reaches up and tucks it into Bucky's ponytail. He admires his work then drops his eyes to Bucky's lips. The kiss comes tender and sweet, tasting of Sam's strong coffee, and Bucky kisses back just a little harder before they grin dumbly at each other and get walking again. 

"So military, huh?" Sam looks up at the treetops, his hand tight in Bucky's as he leads them up a small curving path. 

"Yeah. Special Ops, three years." 

"I knew someone who served too," Sam says. The words come from his mouth like a tender secret, something precious he chooses to divulge.

"A wolf?"

He nods, "A werewolf in the military. Can you imagine?" Sam's got a profoundly fond look on his face, something quietly reminiscent and longing. "Search and rescue unit, extractions."

"Riley?" 

Sam shakes his head, "Steve. My… our… the pack's alpha." he pauses briefly and swallows, "He's the one the kids saw in the woods. When he uh... when he comes looking for me." The last part comes out so self-deprecating and miserable that Bucky doesn't know what to say.

"Here it is," Sam says then, leading them through a curtain of trees.

Bucky blinks away from Sam to see an open stretch of ground, much like the clearing around his cabin. The trees form a perfect circle around it, and here the darkness of the woods shimmer invitingly in the distance. In the very center of the clearing is a massive rock, somehow perfectly round like an oversized pebble. It's covered with snow and pine needles, and, for some reason, it makes Sam sigh deeply. 

Sam tugs on Bucky's hand and starts walking toward the rock. A small, barely-there smile shapes the one corner of his mouth. He dusts off the snow. 

Written on the rock is the name, Riley. 

It's not a rock, Bucky realizes. It's a headstone.

He squeezes Sam's hand, "It's beautiful." 

Sam lifts his hand in a fist then abruptly opens it, a sharp cling sound follows and in place of his blunt fingernails are long, razor-sharp claws. 

"Thanks, did it myself," he says, half smug, half sad.

"Jesus Christ, man." Bucky laughs, he reaches up to touch, to run the pads of his fingers along the needle-like edges, then slides his fingers between Sam's. 

Sam's hand folds around his, and he looks down at the rock. 

"What happened to him… to your pack?" Bucky asks, finally, quietly. 

Sam takes a deep breath and starts walking to the edge of the trees; from there, Bucky can see his cabin, a tiny little wooden spot below. 

"We went running one night. Riley and I. We went way further than we were supposed to. Hunters roamed the woods back then, so no one ever strayed too far from the pack, but I kept going. I remember him trying to get us to turn back. I told him not to be a pussy." 

Sam stops and looks at Bucky, and he is absolutely devastated. Bucky realizes then that whatever happened to Riley, Sam blames himself for. 

"We got to the cabin, and we finally stopped, we shifted back to human form, and he said that's where he wanted to live, that he wanted to settle down here and start a family with me. Right there." Sam points to the cabin below.

"But they found us—the hunters—they were waiting and we were too vulnerable like that out in the open." He shakes his head, and Bucky tightens the grip on Sam's hand. "Shot him right in the head, right in front of me." his chin wobbles and all Bucky can say is "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"Got me in the gut and I passed out." He says, "They loaded us onto a truck bed, probably thinking I was dead, but I woke up halfway to the city. I healed, he didn't." His hand grazes over his stomach, just beside his navel.

"Jesus, Sam." 

"Woke up and dragged his body out of there. Took him back home to be buried. But..." 

"They got your pack too?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"I couldn't stay. I couldn't… when I was the one… I couldn't… I saw their faces. They loved him, we all grew up together. He was the pack's golden boy. And I…" 

"You didn't do anything, Sam. It wasn't your fault what happened."

He scoffs, his eyes now smokey with tears, "I couldn't look at Steve anymore, knowing his kid brother's dead because I told him not to be a pussy." and then his voice cracks like dreadful thunder, and he cries. "I lost them all that day."

Bucky pulls him close and wraps him in a hug. "They would never blame you. I got a sister, and she'd be the biggest pain in the ass, but she'll always be my sister. No one blames you for this." 

Sam remains stubborn, "You don't know that. You didn't see his face." 

"He was mourning, Sam. And I bet he's mourning you too." 

Sam looks like he wants to believe it, but all these years of self-doubt have clouded anything remotely hopeful. He pulls away from Bucky and wipes his face, his eyes are red now, his long lashes parted and curling. 

"He looks for me. Every summer. I never let him find me." Sam says, smiling now a little, "It's become a game, but I'm always a step ahead."

Bucky reaches up to wipe a tear streak from Sam's cheek, "I bet you are, sweetheart."

"I'm an asshole," Sam says, and that mischievous spark creeps back into his eyes. "Come here." 

He leads Bucky to the edge of the clearing and tells him to reach out. When he does, his hand hits an invisible barrier that reverberates and pushes him back. 

Sam catches him and laughs like the little shit he is. "Found a witch and had her cast a seclusion spell on this area. Makes it totally invisible, and well—" he pokes the barrier, "—impenetrable from the outside."

"Jesus Christ, witches too?!" 

Sam cackles and Bucky is briefly stunned by the beautiful flash of yellow in his laugh-narrowed eyes. "Witches too, champ. One day I'll tell you _all_ the secrets."

"So..." Bucky says, looking around, "All this space to yourself, and you still chase people out the cabin, huh?" He leans sideways and kisses Sam's cheek.

"Was gonna be our home…" 

"I know. I'm sorry I invaded it." 

Sam shakes his head and pulls Bucky close, he nuzzles into his neck and inhales long and deep. 

"I'm glad you did, " Sam says against the soft hollow below Bucky's ear, and he shudders at the warmth.

"Well, it's our home now," Bucky whispers back. Because he can't imagine it any other way. He feels Sam smile into his neck, his arms squeezing just a little tighter than before

That night Sam makes love to him slowly, but there's something desperate in the way he works Bucky's body. It's like he's trying to commit it all to memory, scared he'll lose it somehow. He's soft with him, reverent, his eyes ignite golden when he pushes up and looks at Bucky. 

"You're beautiful," he tells Bucky, then gasps as his knot inflates, slipping inside.

Bucky means to say, 'so are you' he means to tell Sam he's the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, that his stomach does wild flips whenever Sam comes close, but he's overcome with sparks of pleasure and just draws Sam near, kissing him.

Later they're both doused in bliss, their limbs tangled cozily under the sheets, and Bucky's head rests on Sam's chest. He traces invisible patterns all along the lines of Sam's abs with his fingertip and listens to the heartbeat in Sam's chest, slow and steady. 

Sam, however, stares out the window at the full moon. He's far away from here though, his arms might be holding Bucky tight, but his mind has ventured way beyond this mountain. 

Bucky knows exactly where Sam is. 

After a moment, Sam says, "I hear them. Almost every night. They call for me." Bucky can't hear a thing, he's only ever heard Sam howling.

"Sweetheart," Bucky murmurs, "You need your pack, they need you. They're a part of you." and as he snuggles closer, he says, "Go to them." 

Bucky feels Sam's lips press to his temple, his arm squeezing tight around Bucky. He drifts off in the ever-present warmth of Sam's body. 

He wakes up, though, freezing and alone. 

The wolf is nowhere in sight. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad Bukcy is a dramatic Bucky :)

> **_I hate to leave, but you were right. Although it won't be forever it won't be quick either. I love you honey and I'll be back to tell you that face to face._ **
> 
> **_Yours, S._ **

Bucky stares at the ink on the tiny scrap of paper in his hands. In an instant, it feels as though everything he's made of has seeped right out of him.

And because he's insufferable, he still goes outside to check if the wolf isn't perhaps sitting on the wooden porch or running laps in the clearing, or maybe he's playfully lurking in the treeline waiting for Bucky to spot his yellow eyes. 

But all he sees is snowfall. The clearing is empty, and so is the cabin. Bucky meant it when he told Sam to reconcile with his pack, he just hadn't been expecting it to come so soon. 

Well, he thinks, Sam said it wouldn't be forever, and he trusts Sam to stick to his word. So he can stick out a couple of days without him. It's fine.

The first few days he puts on an exquisite show of acting unaffected, he almost manages to convince even himself. By the fourth day, restlessness starts getting the better of him, and he decides keeping busy is probably the best, so he sets out to town to grab some groceries. 

By the time he leaves the grocer the winds have picked up and swept snow all over the streets, he loads the groceries in his truck then hears Misty calling to him before he gets in to head back home. 

"You ain't gonna leave without saying hi, are you??" she shouts, beckoning him to Howlers. It does look awful warm and cozy in there with the red lights and fireplace glowing through the window. 

"No, ma'am!" Although he's not really up for explaining why Sam's not with him, or where he went. All he really wants to do is crawl back into bed and drown his sorrows. Still, he heads over, perhaps seeking some solace.

"God, come inside! It's freezing!" she says. She takes his coat and hangs it up by the door then leads him to a table right by the fireplace. "Coffee, hun?" 

He rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm them up, but that just makes him think of Sam's body and the impossible heat always emanating from it, how he could easily slip his palm against Sam's ribs and in an instant he'd be warm. 

"Buck?" Misty says, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He doesn't want to know what his face looks like because hers in response is twisted with concern.

"Uh, sorry. Yeah, coffee, thanks." 

"Alright. You get warmed up, I'll be right back." 

She leaves a little hesitantly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. While he waits, he stares out the window at the grey light outside, all the leaves in shades of auburn and snow-covered treetops, the black tire tracks on an otherwise white road. 

He takes a photo and sends it to his sister. 

**_To Becs:_ **

_ 73632_536.jpg  _

**_Becs:_ **

_ *gasp* it gets worse! _

_ Do you have enough jackets and blankets??? _

_ Or a nice boy to keep you warm?? Maybe? No? _

He starts and stops typing probably ten times and eventually gives up when his eyes sting warm and watery. 

**_To Becs:_ **

_ I'll get back to you on that one  _

"Oh, baby," Misty says suddenly beside him. He hadn't heard her approaching at all. In a haste he puts the phone down and makes space for his coffee, watching Misty sit down opposite him, she folds her hands over his. 

"Is it Sam?" she asks.

Bucky tries to focus on her eyes and long lashes, her beautiful spiral curls, the copper glow of her skin in the firelight so that he won't start crying. But it's all futile.

"It's not… I mean he's coming back… he just had to—" 

She sighs, looks down, and squeezes his hand. "Buck, I don't wanna make anything harder than it already is," but he's got a feeling she's going to do just that. "I've seen hundreds of drifters come into town. They sweep the locals off their feet and leave behind a trail of tears when they go." Her smile is weak, "They never come back. I know... I've been left behind too." 

He can't exactly tell her that this is different. He can't explain that Sam had to go to his pack, and he probably left now before the snow got any worse, he can't tell her that he believes in Sam's promise to return because they are bonded by fate. So he stays quiet. 

She lets him sit there for as long as he wants, and it's quite a while- the snow stops falling sometime after midday, and the sun makes a weak attempt of warming up the earth below. Which is when he finally heads home. 

Although he knows Sam won't be standing in the doorway when he gets there, he still looks for him as he parks the truck. Bucky packs the groceries away and straightens up the lounge where he curls up on the couch with his laptop and a blanket, wearing Sam's green hoodie. 

Every day after that is the same.

Cold and miserable and alone. He has binged his way through most of the good movies and some shows on Netflix and eaten through all the snacks. Once the snow stops for a while, he decides to go on a hike in a desperate whirlwind of missing Sam. 

He trails all the way up the path Sam took them on that day. All the beautiful flowers from before have wilted, and the ground is slippery and cold under his boots, and no matter which turn he takes he can't find Sam's clearing. Because it had been goddamn magically excluded from existence. 

Eventually, after passing the same curved pine tree a third time, he stumbles to his knees over a shrub, looks up at the sky, and screams. 

A couple of days later, he goes to the liquor store in town and buys two bottles of Jack and menthol cigarettes. He gets so drunk that he texts Becca to tell her he's in love, and it sucks, and he hates everything. A few torturous hours later, he pukes and passes out. The next day he spends on the couch again, miserably hungover and sick. 

Four weeks after his drunken night, he starts thinking Misty had been right. 

Days pass in a haze and still no sign of Sam. 

He starts to hate the mountain and the cabin, and this empty ache in his chest. It won't leave him, it won't let him breathe, his mind curls around fading memories of Sam and the wolf just like he curls around his pillow at night. 

He's angry at everything and tries to get over Sam out of pure spite, but then he finds a long brown hair in his bed, or a stray dried leaf in the laundry basket and the anger turns into desolate misery again.

He misses Sam. And he'll never recover.


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky wakes up one morning and realizes that the snow has stopped falling.

The clearing is wet and earthy instead of white and frozen, the sun is just a breath warmer than it had been in the last few weeks. The little birds have started hopping around on the branches again. Shit. 

He pours a cup of coffee and nibbles on a piece of toast, staring out the back window when a devastatingly familiar feeling creeps up his spine. 

He felt it when he first moved in, that unmistakable inkling that he's being watched, something that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Slowly, he places the mug and toast down and closes his eyes, waiting for it to pass. 

But it doesn't. 

It can't be real. Surely, he's just imagining this. His broken, longing heart just craves Sam's presence. 

Still, the feeling intensifies. So Bucky flings himself around and rushes toward the door. He's well aware that he's setting himself up for misery because there'll be no one there, but he's desperate for hope right now. 

He yanks the door open, and a ball of mist dissipates in his face. He frantically swats it away and then… 

"Hey, champ." 

Sam's there. He's standing buck ass naked on Bucky's doorstep, grinning his sly, slanted grin at Bucky. He's there, and he's real and beautiful, the sweetest thing Bucky's ever known. 

"Oh, god!" Bucky whimpers and throws himself at Sam, arms tightly around his neck, breathing him in. And Sam holds him close, hands tangled in Bucky's hair, nose in his neck. 

"I'm sorry," He says, "The snow blocked the pass. We had to go the long way around." 

Bucky sniffles, refusing to let go of Sam, "I missed you. I missed you so fucking much, like half of me—" 

"—was missing. I know." Sam pulls away and holds Bucky's face in his hands, "I missed you too, sweetheart." 

And for the first time in months, Bucky smiles. 

Despite the wet eyes and sniffling, Sam kisses him and at once everything inside of Bucky slots back in place as if Sam had never left at all. 

"Wait…" Bucky stops, frowns at Sam, "We? Who's we?" 

Sam smiles at him and steps aside.

"Oh, fuck…" Bucky says in awe, completely floored and staring.

Four massive wolves are standing in the clearing, at the foot of the steps. 

The first is a white one, he's slightly bigger than the rest, eyes like pools of ruby gems. Beside him, a copper furred one tips her head sideways, blinking her yellow eyes at Bucky. The third one is grey and white with eyes just like the white wolf, and the last is a jet black wolf, staring at him with unblinking golden embers.

Bucky cups his hand over his mouth, "Oh my god," he mumbles again, "Hi—is this…"

"My pack," Sam says. And oh, he's proud, he's so proud; he's just radiating joy. Sam looks at the wolves and rolls his eyes, "Guys come on, man." 

The one alpha, the white wolf, is the first one to shift into human form. The kids were right, he's a goddamn brick shithouse. He comes up the steps and shakes Bucky's hand—naked—smiling a mile a minute, "Heard a lot about you. I'm Steve Rogers." 

"Yeah, heard about you too," Bucky says. He's a little dazed, so he's probably grinning like a lunatic. "Come in," and under his breath,  _ "Grab some clothes..." _

Next, the grey and white alpha comes up the steps, emitting a big cloud of mist. When the woman appears, Sam says, "My sister, Sarah." She looks just like him- her nose and chin and the shape of her eyes, even her hair. 

"Oh my god, nice to meet you," Bucky says, his heart pounding like a herd of one hundred stampeding stallions. 

Sarah hugs him, then says, "I missed him, thanks for sending him home." 

And by god Bucky will not start crying again; he's done enough of that to last a lifetime. So he just holds her for a moment. 

The other two wolves have also transformed and come up to meet Bucky. One with messy red hair and the other with dark curly hair. The redhead's name is Natasha, and she too is all muscle and strength when she shakes Bucky's hand. Wanda, the black wolf, is less intimidating, she pulls Bucky in for a hug and tells him how excited she'd been to meet him. 

Bucky gets them all something to wear once everyone is inside, and Sam fixes six cups of coffee to melt away the last tendrils of cold. And yeah, it's wild seeing his cabin full of werewolves wearing his clothes, but they're all laughing and ribbing Sam and each other while buttering hot slices of toast. 

Sam sticks close to him the entire time, slips his arms around Bucky's waist, and buries his nose behind Bucky's ear. 

"We'll have to extend the cabin," Bucky says, watching everyone shuffle around inside. Steve's broad shoulders brushing past Sarah by the fridge, Nat and Wanda huddling around in the living room. 

"Oh, they're not staying. A week tops, but they'll be moving closer, at least."

"You going with?" Bucky asks, not quite managing to keep the selfishness out of his voice. 

"Never leaving you again." 

Bucky cranes his neck and offers his mouth up for a kiss. "I can live with that." and Sam chuckles, squeezing the life out of him. 

Later he realizes there is not enough food in here to feed five werewolves and heads to town for some more groceries. Sam laughs hysterically when he returns with ten juicy steaks and potatoes, obviously remembering Bucky's first offering to him, way back. 

They clean out the fire pit and start up a big blazing fire. Sarah and Natasha cozy up with the last of Bucky's misery whiskey while they wait for the steaks to cook. Steve and Sam toss a football around that Bucky found in the back of his truck.

Sam laughs all cocky when he dodges a tackle from the bulky alpha. Bucky watches in awe as he runs endless laps around the clearing, tossing the ball hard and fast, taking it as good as he dishes out when Steve hurls it back. 

After a while, they come over, breathless and smiling, arms around each other. Sam ruffles Nat's hair and then sits down beside Bucky. His hand finds Bucky's easily, fingers curling around his own. 

"Hey," he says, the corners of his eyes narrowed with a smile. 

"Hey, sweetheart." Bucky leans in and kisses him.

The pack howls suddenly then giggles. Bucky's cheeks flush hot, and he pulls away to look at Sam.

"Assholes," Sam laughs, wetting his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. 

Bucky places his hand on Sam's heart, "Family," he says. 

Sam nods slowly, "Yeah." He puts his hand on Bucky's heart, too, and says, "Family." 

The mellow-golden light of late noon reflects in Sam's eyes and sets them alight, glowing; his cheeks smolder bronze with a sheen of sweat, and Bucky is positive that he's never seen anything more breathtaking in his entire life. 

* * *

**nearing the following autumn**

Bucky tells Ned and Peter to wait on the steps. It's clear they're pretty confused about why they're here without a delivery order, but it'll make sense soon enough. 

"Oh, hey, Sam!!" Ned calls when Sam comes swaggering from the other side of the clearing. He's sweaty, and his thin white t-shirt clings to his chest, and the green checkered button-down flaps in the wind. It's great.

Sam waves at them, his grin is big and bright, the kind of grin that knocks you right off your ass. "Hey, kiddos!" 

"We're twenty-three now!!" Peter shouts.

"Like I said!" Sam drives his point home somehow by lugging the ax into a thick tree stump. It cracks in half with seemingly no effort at all. 

"Did we come for the lumberjack show? I am not opposed to this, just asking." Ned says.

Bucky laughs, "No. Not quite. What you're about to see—"

Peter snorts, "You sound like one of those clickbait ads." He pokes Ned with his elbow, and he sputters out a laugh too.

"Listen." Bucky folds his arms, "You wanna see something cool or not?"

In unison, they agree enthusiastically, and Bucky calls over to Sam, "Alright babe, go for it!" 

Sam salutes the three of them and shrugs off his check shirt. Peter and Ned look at each other. Sam kicks his jeans off too, so he's only in bike shorts and a vest. 

Ned says, "Dude, is he okay?" and looks wide-eyed at Bucky.

"Just wait." Bucky assures him.

"Ready??" Sam calls out. 

Peter blinks, "I... uh..."

But then a thick swirl of mist tangles all around Sam's ankles, up to his calves, hips, and finally his chest until he's completely enveloped.

"What... is happening?" Ned looks between mist-Sam and Bucky. 

"Dude, why—"

And then the mist drops to the ground, and the big brown wolf in all his wonder has taken Sam's place.

For a fraction of a second, it's silent. Bucky thinks he can't even hear a bird chirp. And then the kids explode.

"Oh, my goddddd!!?!"

"I knew it!!!!!"

"Oh my  _ god!?!??!" _

"Didn't I tell you!!??? I told you!!!!" 

Many "ahhhh" and squealing sounds follow while they jump around and slap each other on the arm, absolutely gaping at Sam. 

Bucky kind of loves them. 

He says, "Listen, if you say anything to anyone, I'll tell 'em you got into old man Phillips' moonshine shed, alright?" 

They nod vehemently, just about vibrating out of their skin as Sam comes closer, "We won't, we won't, I swear!" says Peter "Oh my god!!"

"Is he gonna let us touch him!?!" Ned squeals.

Bucky waves them toward Sam, "Yes. Please stop being hysterical." 

Wolf-Sam—who he adores wholeheartedly—sits down at the foot of the steps, and the kids kneel beside him. He still looks terribly indignant and annoyed and far too majestically good for this banal behavior, just like he did the first night Bucky met him. 

But he allows Peter and Ned to pet him, and run their fingers through his fur, scratch his chest and even share some hugs. He glows his eyes at them too, and Bucky thinks these two might pass out from overexcitement. 

For a long while, they fawn over the wolf, petting his fur, snuggling up beside him, even talking to him. Bucky starts up a wood fire and brings out some pillows for them to sit on. 

It's almost sundown when Sam's had enough of their fussing. He jostles them away lightly and shakes his coat out. 

Ned sighs, "Oh, wow..." 

"I know, right." Bucky smiles, prodding at the crackling fire. 

Sam comes to nudge at his leg, so Bucky kneels. He knows Sam's routine by now- all the secrets and tells of the wolf. He's picked up enough to know it's time for Sam to let himself run free for a while. 

"See you later?"

The wolf licks a disgusting wet stripe up Bucky's cheek, and the kids quietly giggle behind them. 

And, with a graceful, swift leap, Sam bounds off toward the woods. The ground thumps ever so slightly under his size, and in a wink, he's gone. 

"Aw, where's he going?" Peter drones. He and Ned join Bucky at the fire pit, rubbing their hands together to stave off the chilly autumn air.

Peter's words are barely cold when a long, cheerful howl resounds all throughout the woods. The kids gleam at each other. 

"Wait for it," Bucky says with a knowing smile. 

And then Sam's howl is echoed by his pack- a chorus of varying pitches in answer to their brother, and it resounds throughout the woods and trees and the night sky.

Ned and Peter grin from ear to ear with the realization.

Bucky smiles to himself. 

All is well in the deep, dark woods. 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading! You can find me here too: [glittercake](https://glittercake.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!


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